Circles in Light
by Rayhne
Summary: What might happen if Michael Garibaldi were to meet ... himself? Comment segment posted with name change.
1. Chapter 1

CIRCLES IN LIGHT

_This story takes place in season 3, right after the Nightwatch members are arrested and Narns join B5 security but before B5 secedes from EA. The only difference is Talia's hidden personality did not take her over (more on why not later) and she was brought into the conspiracy._

'Ways of Old to Guide and Guard  
Paths to Bring and Send  
Circles both in Light and Dark  
From Starting until End'

Talia Winters glanced around the Zocalo. Something unseen was bothering her -- something just slightly off-kilter but she couldn't quite place it. Not that she was really surprised. What with Nightwatch attempting to take over the station and the command staff finding a legitimate, if regrettably temporary, way to prevent that takeover, it wasn't surprising things felt off. She was probably picking up the uneasiness of the thoughts of the people around her but somehow that didn't feel right.

She frowned as she looked around, trying to pin down the feeling. What she spotted was Michael Garibaldi standing near the bazaar's entrance. Ahhhhh. If anyone could help her locate whatever it was that was bothering her, he could. She started toward him.

The security chief was looking around, studying the crowded bazaar. His eyes slid over her then back. The frown he was wearing deepened then he ducked back into the corridor. Talia paused in surprise. Usually every time Garibaldi saw her, he was more then happy to get close, sometimes much to her discomfort. This time he was obviously avoiding her. Puzzled, she moved after him, finally spotting him waiting impatiently at the elevator.

"Michael." She paused as he half-turned, meeting his eyes for the first time and realized -- oh, God, this wasn't Michael Garibaldi!! Looked like him, yes, yet wasn't.

Frightened, Talia stepped back, half-turning to run but a strong hand clamped over her mouth and another grabbed her arm. He jerked her back and into the just-opening elevator, spinning her so she was trapped against the wall with him between her and the doorway. Her eyes darted around the elevator, which was, much to her sharp disappointment, empty save for them. Of course, this one time she really wanted people near ...

Talia grew uncomfortably aware of the stranger's closeness to her. If the doors were to open and someone looked in, they might not even see her. Or, if they did, think they were seeing a furtive liaison. Fear stabbed into her and she whimpered against the hand still covering her mouth, struggling feebly.

"Easy." The man murmured, his eyes -- less brown and more green then Garibaldi's -- darting nervously toward the door. "Easy. I won't hurt you. Just stay calm."

Talia forced herself to relax, forced her psi-abilities back under control. For the first time, she realized that this stranger possessed a mind-shield, a formidable one she couldn't bypass. But she could just touch his surface-thoughts and they echoed what he was saying. He wouldn't hurt her.

This realization steadied her and she studied this man more closely. He was virtually identical to the security chief, save for the slight difference in eye color. He even wore, she noticed with sick alarm, Garibaldi's uniform, including the link and PPG.

He must have noticed where she was looking and guessed at the direction of her thoughts. "He's all right. Not very comfortable at the moment but all right. Now, just stay calm and walk with me. Got it?"

She hesitated then nodded. The man glanced at the door as the computer's voice announced that they had reached the level where -- Talia suddenly realized -- Garibaldi had his quarters. As the door opened, he removed his hand from her mouth and straightened, glancing hurriedly around the empty corridor. As he stepped away from her, she moved in an age-old move, slamming her knee into his groin with considerable force.

The man made a choking noise, doubling over, his face paling but the hand he had clamped on her wrist didn't loosen. Desperately, Talia clawed at it but then his other hand clamped onto her throat. Her eyes widened as the strong fingers tightened. Oddly enough, his mind still told her he would not harm her then blackness edged into her sight and she passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

Michael Garibaldi lay face-down on his bed, wrists bound behind his back and ankles tied together, a truly uncomfortable position made even worse by the fact that he'd been tied for a good seven hours, which lead to certain physical discomforts. He twisted his head around to glare at the other occupant of his quarters.

"Hey!! Hey, you! Munchkin!" That about described his keeper. He, or she, as the case may be but he was leaning more toward male, was leaning against a nearby wall. Of course, that opinion was based mainly on the deepness of the being's voice and with aliens -- well, you could never be sure. "Listen, could you untie me? Just for a couple minutes?" He tried to sound harmless but he suspected it wasn't working.

The diminutive creature stepped closer. Swathed from head to foot in a dark-blue robe, it couldn't stand taller then three feet, if that. "You're joking, right?" His English was perfect, tainted only by the faintest of accents, an accent Garibaldi couldn't identify.

"Look, I really need to use the head." Garibaldi wasn't faking the desperation in his voice.

"Well, you jes' hang on a while longer. We'll be out of her..."

The door lifted open and his guard spun smoothly, his arm lifting to level the odd weapon on the back of his hand at the person entering then just as quickly lowering it. Automatically, Garibaldi noted that the revealed arm was gray-furred and the fingers clawed. "What the deities happened?" The little creature said sharply.

"She got close enough to scan me. Now move, Remy!"

Garibaldi twisted far enough to see his look alike walk in. His heart almost stopped as he realized that the limp burden in his arms was Talia Winters. Garibaldi struggled with difficulty to a sitting position.

"Damn you!" He half-snarled. "If you've hurt her!"

"Calm down. She'll be fine." The man set Talia gently into a chair then sat gingerly on the arm, one hand clutching at his groin. "I, on the other hand …" He swallowed hard, looking pale.

"Scanning isn't all she managed to do, eh?" Remy sounded amused, ignoring the nasty look his companion threw at him. "This isn't working, boss man. How about we blow this joint and maybe try something else?" The last bit was said in plaintive tones.

Garibaldi watched as his double straightened, looking down at the unconscious woman with a frown. "I hate to admit it, Remy but you're right."

"I'm always right." Remy said smugly.

Unable to hold himself in a sitting position any longer, Garibaldi let himself fall, landing on his left side. In this position, he could still see Remy and, with difficulty, his look alike. The latter had retreated to a corner of his room, half-hidden from the security chief's sight but he could see enough to realize that the man was changing clothes. The security uniform the man had appropriated for his use was tossed carelessly on a chair, the communication link and PPG onto a table. Garibaldi caught a glimpse of something glinting white then his double was pulling on dark clothing, covering them with an equally dark cloak.

"Ready?" Remy was practically hopping from foot to foot -- if he had feet.

"Yeahyeahyeah." Tugging on an odd pair of gloves, the man started toward the door, pausing with a frown over Talia.

"Keep away from her!" Garibaldi spat, twisting in his bonds. The man looked up, startled, identical pairs of eyes meeting then Talia groaned and the stranger jumped back from her. Remy yelped something Garibaldi couldn't make out and the man spun and darted out the door after him.

oooOooo

Talia groaned then flinched at the ache in her throat. Dimly, she heard something in the background, someone yelling her name. Opening her eyes, she looked around, trying to place where she is. It looked familiar then memory hit her and she sat and turned, half-suspecting what she would see.

Garibaldi was laying on his side, arms tied behind his back and ankles bound together. "Come on, Talia! I need your help!"

Talia scrambled to her feet, clutching the back of the chair as a wave of dizziness swept over her.

"You okay?" Garibaldi called, concerned.

"I'll live." She swallowed, raising a hand to her throat as she walked over to the bed. "Roll over. I'll untie your hands."

Garibaldi shook his head then jerked it toward the nightstand next to the bed. "There's a knife in that drawer. Use it."

Talia obeyed, cutting the binds on his wrists but before she could start on the ones binding his ankles, he rolled over and sat up, taking the knife from her with clumsy, blood-starved hands.

"Get me my link. Over there." He nodded toward a table.

By the time she returned with the link, Garibaldi had managed to saw through the remaining ties. Dropping the knife on his bed, Garibaldi took the link, just barely managing to work the controls. "Garibaldi to Allan."

"Allan here."

"Zack, listen carefully. This might be confusing. I want an alert put out for a man, looks pretty much like me. Wearing dark clothes and a dark cloak that's probably covering most of his face and traveling with a companion. Little fellow maybe three feet high, also totally cloaked. No idea what he looks like. Consider both to be armed. Get that alert out then I want you to come to my quarters. Garibaldi out."

He didn't wait for Zack's reply, just affixed the link to the back of his hand and climbed unsteadily to his feet. Talia moved to help him but he waved her away. "I'm okay. Right now what I really need is the head."

By the time Garibaldi returned, there was someone at his door. No, two someones. Captain Sheridan was the first through the door, Zack at his heels.

"Michael! What the hell happened?" Sheridan took in his security chief's disheveled appearance with a concerned glance.

Garibaldi gave him an unusually grim look. "You mean besides the fact that someone has been impersonating me for the past seven-plus hours?"

"What!?" Sheridan came to a dead halt, his expression shocked.

"Got me when I walked in the door." Garibaldi said in disgust. "So damn worn out from everything that I just ... one's a short little fella I never saw clearly, the other looked just like me."

"Except for his eyes." Talia interrupted then paused, flustered, as three pairs of eyes turned toward her. "They were a little more green then Michael's."

Sheridan's eyes narrowed and he glanced at Talia. "How did you get involved, Ms. Winters?" He asked as Garibaldi picked up his PPG.

"I got too close to him and picked up on his thoughts. The minute I did, I knew he wasn't Michael." Talia paused, raising a hand to her throat.

Garibaldi looked at her in concern, bending his head to peer at her throat. "You've got a lovely set of bruises."

"What!?" Sheridan followed Garibaldi's gaze.

"Sleeper choke. Zack." Garibaldi motioned the security officer forward. "Take Ms. Winters to Medlab."

"I'm all ri ..." Talia started then fell silent as Garibaldi's link beeped for attention.

He raised the link to his mouth, keying it automatically. "Garibaldi. Talk to me."

"Welch here. I think I've seen the people you're looking for, heading Downbelow."

"Downbelow? You sure?" Garibaldi frowned. "I thought for sure they'd head for the docks."

"Two cloaked figures, one roughly your size, the other maybe three foot tall. We're following them right now." The man said.

"Good. Tell me where you are and I'll be there as soon as I can."

Lou told him and Garibaldi keyed the link off. "Zack." He nodded at Talia.

"Yes, sir. Ms. Winters." Zack gestured toward the door. Talia started toward it then paused, turning back to Garibaldi.

"Michael. When I scanned that man's mind -- he has a mind-shield, a very strong one. He might be a telepath."

"Just what we need." Garibaldi muttered as the woman and her escort left.

"Yeah." Sheridan glanced at Garibaldi uncertainly. The man looked shaky but determined. "I'll stick with you, Michael. Keep your own people from arresting you."

Garibaldi hesitated then nodded.

oooOooo

By the time they reached the location Lou had given them he'd already moved on but Ivanova was tracking his link and they followed her crisp directions through Grey Seven from where it left an informal bazaar and turned into rundown living quarters for the Lurkers that dwelt there. Several of the Lurkers flinched back at this unexpected invasion but Garibaldi ignored them as he led the way to Lou's latest location.

He spotted Lou and his partner, Torque just approaching a corner. Garibaldi hurried to his side, joining him in peering around the corner. His quarry was midway down the corridor and the security chief grinned in satisfaction. The next second he was frowning, eyes darting around the corridor.

"Where's his little friend?" He asked quietly.

Lou shook his head. "He was there when they went around the corner."

"Damn it!" Garibaldi gave the corridor another hard look. Lurkers were curled against the wall, some, he knew, were hiding in the curtained off areas of unfinished walls but there were no one directly between him and his double, who was rapidly approaching another corner. "Keep an eye peeled for the little fella." He said as he drew his PPG and stepped around the corner. The others followed but before any of them could take a step the man spun suddenly, dropping to one knee and raising a hand in a gesture Garibaldi recognized from his ex-guard.

"Down!" Garibaldi shouted, dropping as he spoke. He raised his own weapon and fired. Hot plasma flared against the stranger's shoulder and he stumbled back before turning to dart around the corner.

"Welch's down!" Sheridan's voice. "Torque, get Medlab and stay with him!"

Garibaldi bolted after the man. He could hear another pair of footsteps behind him and knew Sheridan was right behind him. Moving too fast to stop at the corner, he skidded around it, bouncing off the wall. Sheridan's turn was more controlled as he took the lead in the chase, Garibaldi on his heels.

Both men could see their quarry. He had ditched the dark cloak and was running down the corridor as fast as he could. Garibaldi drew alongside his commanding officer.

"The Triangle!" He gasped and Sheridan started then nodded. "I'll cut him off." Then Garibaldi ducked into a side corridor, following his memory of a short-cut to the area known as the B5 Triangle. His gut told him that that was where his double was heading -- why, he had no idea. But there he was.

Garibaldi forced a burst of speed and threw himself forward, tackling the runner around the waist. They both tumbled to the ground, Garibaldi on top but the next second an elbow jabbed into the side of his head, throwing him off balance. The man scrambled away from him but he managed to grab his leg, yanking him back down. With a snarl, the stranger twisted and Garibaldi found himself on his back, the other man astride him, a fist -- his left, he noted in a dazed way -- posed to strike.

There was the sudden sound of a PPG warming up and eyes, so much like his own, suddenly widened. The man froze.

"I want both hands up." Sheridan's voice came from behind and above the stranger and Garibaldi's eyes shifted to see the Captain holding his weapon firmly against the other's head. "Now."

The man swallowed hard, his face working then slowly his hands went up, the odd weapons on the backs of each pointing upward, his fingers curled away from the triggers. Michael yanked out his PPG and pressed it under the man's chin. He flinched back but was trapped between the two weapons.

"Take off those weapons." Sheridan ordered. "And toss them against that wall."

The man didn't move, his breathing harsh and hard. Michael pushed the PPG harder into his throat. "Now." He said curtly.

The man didn't look at him. He probably couldn't because of the PPG under his chin. Slowly, his left hand went over his head to unsnap the glove holding the weapon in place, stripping it off and throwing it to one side. He did the same for the one on his left.

"Okay, now up." Michael pressed harder. "On your feet and against the wall."

Sheridan stepped back as the man slowly stood. From down the corridor, there was a clatter of feet and some of his men, lead by Zack, appeared, weapons leveled at the stranger. A look of despair crossed his face then vanished, leaving no expression at all. Michael pulled himself back then up to his feet. "Against the wall." He repeated. "Zack. Frisk him."

The man obeyed and Zack walked to him, holstering his PPG. His search was halted almost immediately. "He's got some kind of armor on, chief."

"I figured. We can get it once he's in custody."

"Right." He continued the search with quick, efficient moves, pausing only at the man's left leg, jerking up the pant leg to pull a knife from the boot. "This is it, chief."

Garibaldi stepped forward to take the ornate blade from Zack, studying it while his men put restraints on the prisoner. They weren't gentle about it but the man didn't make a sound, even when they jerked him around to face their superior.

Garibaldi resisted the urge to pound a fist into the other man's face. It was far too much like his own for comfort. "Okay, pal. Who the hell are you and where's your little friend?" He reached over to take the gloves from one of his men. "And what the hell did you shoot Lou with?"

The man's eyes slipped down to the gloves. "Sleep drug." He said tersely.

"Sleep drug. That's it?"

The man didn't answer and Garibaldi glanced at Zack. "Take him to lockup. Get that armor off of him. And find out who he is!"

"Right, chief. Come on, you." Zack gave the prisoner's arm an ungentle jerk, his grip on the man's arm hard enough to leave bruises.

Garibaldi and Sheridan watched them go. "No brothers, Michael? Look alike cousins?"

"No." Garibaldi said shortly.

Sheridan eyed him in concern. "You all right?"

"No. Damn it! That ... whoever the hell he is ... has been impersonating me for a good seven hours! God knows what kind of damage he's done!"

"We'll find out and take care of it. First off ..." Sheridan looked at the gloves Garibaldi held.

Garibaldi followed his eyes. "Right. First we see how Lou and Talia are doing."

oooOooo

Medlab was fairly empty when they arrived. Franklin was just exiting one of the exam rooms when they entered.

"Oh, good. You're here. Welch's going to be fine, Michael. It was some kind of sleeping drug. I have no idea how long he'll be out."

"Maybe this will help." Garibaldi held out a blue canister he had pulled from one of the gloves.

"Well." Franklin took the canister. "I'll run it through some tests, see if I can figure out what it was."

"Where's Talia?"

Franklin gestured toward another room where the door was open and they stepped over it. Talia, sitting on the exam table, looked up at their approach, smiling wanly.

"You look terrible, Michael."

"Gee, just what I want to hear." Garibaldi looked down at himself ruefully. He was a mess.

"What happened, Ms. Winters?" Sheridan asked and Garibaldi looked up again.

Talia explained what had happened; the feeling that something was wrong, seeing someone she'd thought was Garibaldi, catching up to him only to find he was an impostor.

"The funny thing is that he told me he wouldn't hurt me and when I scanned him, I realized he was telling the truth. Even when ..." She touched her throat. "He had no intention of hurting me."

"Did you get any information on him?" Garibaldi said hopefully. "When you scanned him?"

"No. I could just reach his surface thoughts. He had a shield, a powerful one. But I have to retract what I said earlier, about him being a telepath. The more I think about it, the more I believe that he isn't. It's possible that the shield is simply a naturally occurring one."

"Jez, I wonder where I can get one." Garibaldi muttered and Talia smiled briefly. "Do you think you can scan him through the shield?"

"No. Not without breaking through it forcibly. Even if I could do it, it could do a great deal of damage to him."

Garibaldi growled deep in his throat, biting back the remark that he didn't care if it damaged him. Sheridan gripped his shoulder.

"I suggest, Michael, that you go get cleaned up and changed. Ms. Winters, can we escort you to your quarters?"

She opened her mouth to refuse then paused. "Thank you."

oooOooo

Torque released the restraints and stepped back, hand on her PPG. Zack stood behind her and to one side, his hand on his weapon, keeping a wary eye on the man. The stranger had said nothing during their walk to the holding cell, refusing to answer any questions.

"Strip." Torque said curtly. "To the skin. There's a change of clothes on the bed."

The man looked toward the bed and Torque felt a chill as she caught sight of his profile. She couldn't believe how much this man looked like the chief. She opened her mouth to repeat the order but the man was already untabbing the shirt, stripping it off and letting it fall to the floor. Underneath it, he wore a sleeveless mail shirt, white in color and made of small riveted rings. He reached under his right arm to unsnap the fastenings that ran up that side and pulled the armor over his head and down his left arm, lowering it to the floor gently.

Torque glanced at Zack, who was glaring at the back of the stranger's head like he wanted to put a bullet into it. He flicked a look at her then shrugged and shook his head. By the time she looked back at the prisoner, he was naked and turning toward the clothes on the bed.

"Jesus!" Torque exploded with a hint of horror. "How the hell did you survive _that_?"

The man paused, looking down at the ugly jagged scar on his right side. It started, Torque saw, just above his groin, below and slightly to the right of his bellybutton and running up his torso to just under his right armpit. The jaggedness of it suggested a serrated blade and she felt her stomach clench. "With the help of a friend." He said tonelessly and reached for the clothing.

Even his voice matched the chief.

As soon as he was dressed in the simple jumpsuit, she directed him to sit on the bed, fingers laced behind his head, while she gathered up the discarded clothing. It was almost unnerving the way he avoided looking at her, staring at a spot on the far wall, expressionless.


	3. Chapter 3

"I don't like this." Now cleaned up and in a clean uniform, Garibaldi fingered the mail shirt his look alike had been wearing. It was, he realized the origin of that flash of white he had seen when the man had been changing. "What did you get from him?" He looked at the shoulder, where his shot had struck. There was no sign of damage.

"Nothing. He's not talking." Zack looked from his chief to the captain. "Thing is, we ran his prints and we're running his DNA. His fingerprints say that he's you."

"Faked."

"I don't know how. Unless it's a whole lot of surgery. We may have to have the doc check him out."

"Well, he won't be able to change his DNA." Sheridan was studying the knife the man had been carrying. It was ornately carved with alien letters in the hilt and the blade itself was red, disturbingly like blood. "You know, this looks Narn. Maybe we can get G'Kar to take a look at it."

"You want to talk to the guy, chief?" Zack asked Garibaldi.

"Not tonight. I'm too damn mad. I'd probably punch him out. Let him stew for a while. I'll talk to him after we get the DNA results back."

"Any problems with him?" Sheridan asked Zack.

"No, sir. Once we got here, he didn't try to fight us. Just changed into the clothes we gave him." Zack added. "We got him in a single person cell, away from everyone else."

Garibaldi set the armor down. "Give him some food then leave him alone. No questions yet. Once we know who he is then I'll talk to him. And good work."

"This looks like ivory." Sheridan commented, fingering the armor then lifting it to look at it more closely. It was made of small interlocking pieces of hard material which did indeed resemble ivory. "But mere ivory wouldn't be able to withstand a blast from a PPG." Sheridan pointed out, setting the shirt down. "Can you get me a detailed recording of that knife? I'll swing by G'Kar and ask him if he knows what this is."

"Right. Zack?" Garibaldi handed the knife to the man and he stepped out of the room.

"So we have this armor, these gloves," Garibaldi fingered the odd gloves. "and this. In his breast pocket." He held up the last item, a ring in an evidence bag.

Sheridan whistled, reaching for the ring and examining it closely. It was made of layers of gold, of all shades of gold with a fragment arching upwards, like a flame. "That has to be one of the most exquisite pieces of jewelry I've ever seen."

"It is a beauty all right. Gold from the look of it. And those jewels. Never seen one like that before." Garibaldi shook his head. "I'll get someone out to check with merchants. See if anyone has ever seen anything like it before."

"Captain?" Zack offered him the data crystal.

"All right. I'll take care of this." He paused, looking at the monitor showing the prisoner with Michael's face pacing the room. "You think maybe EA was trying to slip a ringer on board?"

"I thought of that. Thing is, whoever his little friend was, he wasn't human. Or any species I recognized from what little I saw of him. Which really doesn't mean much."

"He didn't come through customs." Zack spoke up. "He would have been noticed."

"So how did he get on the station?"

"Like it or not, there are ways." Garibaldi handed the ring to Zack. "Here, get this scanned in as well. I want to see if anyone has seen anything like it before."

"I'll swing by G'Kar and see about this knife. Later, Michael."

#

"Where did you say you got this, Captain?" G'kar studied the images projected by the data crystal intently.

"Off of a suspect. Currently in holding."

"A Narn?" G'Kar asked sharply.

"A human."

"A human? What would a human be doing with a Narn Blood Blade?" Seeing Sheridan's confused look, G'Kar hastened to explain. "It is a blade used in a kinship ritual. Similar to your blood brothers. It … it is rarely done these days and always between Narns. Never has a human participated in this ritual!"

"We're checking into it."

G'Kar stared at the data crystal. "May I keep this? It's possible one of the other Narns on the station may recognize the knife."

"Actually, that would be a big help."

"It's possible, I suppose, that the blade was stolen or even sold off the home world." G'Kar continued sadly. "Perhaps by a Centauri. They stole many of our treasures."

"The knife is in a safe place. If we can find its rightful owner, it will be returned."

G'Kar hesitated then nodded. "Very well. Thank you, Captain." He waited until the captain had stepped from his room before turning to study the images again. He hadn't lied to the captain, not intentionally at least. He just hadn't mentioned that the names of the two who participated in the ritual were engraved on the blades. And the two names engraved on this knife intrigued him.

#

"You're not going to like this, Michael." Dr. Franklin said from behind him and Garibaldi felt his shoulders tense. Somehow he knew what was coming. He took the flimsy Franklin offered him and scowled at the words there.

_DNA Match: Garibaldi, Michael Alfredo_

"Clone?" He asked between clenched teeth.

"Why?"

"Shit. I don't know." Frustration made him coarse as Michael glared out the monitor showing the mystery man in his cell. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, hands resting on his knees, eyes closed. It took Michael a moment to realize he was meditating, his breathing slow and steady.

"Well, there's none of the tags that indicate he is a clone." Stephan followed Michael's eyes and whistled. "Damn. He is identical to you."

The mystery man's eyes opened suddenly and he turned to look directly at the camera. Stephan felt a chill.

"Lucky guess or does he know we're watching him?" He asked.

"Talia said he has a shield. Maybe he is telepathic." This time it was Michael turn to feel a chill. "You don't think ..." He stopped and shook his head.

"What?"

"I was just thinking PsiCorp but that doesn't make any sense. Bester doesn't like me but that's hardly a reason to fuck with my life." He watched the monitor as the man once again closed his eyes and returned to his meditation.

Franklin crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "What was he doing while he was impersonating you?"

"Wilson did a run through of surveillance tapes. Looks like he was just wandering, looking around. He talked with some people. Couple of my guys are talking with them, seeing what he was asking them about. He even stopped a mugging. Didn't spend any credits except to get something to eat. I don't get it at all."

"What's that?" Stephan leaned toward the monitor. "On his arm. Can you zoom in?"

Michael adjusted the camera and whistled. Scars were barely visible on the man's right arm, long sweeping scars starting under the short sleeve of the jumpsuit and running down the length of his arm. Turning to the computer, he brought up the file Torque had started on John Doe 137. "Apparently he has a number of scars. Including a particularly ugly one on his torso. Torque thinks that one was done with a serrated blade."

"Ouch!"

Michael stared at the screen for a moment longer. "And one on his back about where I have one. Except that his was apparently made with a knife."

Franklin shook his head. "Who the hell is this guy?" He paused but didn't really expect an answer. "Have you talked to him?"

"Torque tried. He ignores her. Talia thinks that nothing less then a PsiCop can get through that shield and I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. We've got to figure out what he's doing here then we'll have a lever to get him to talk." He glanced at Stephan. "How's Lou doing?"

"He's fine. Woke up about an hour ago. I'm keeping him for observation for a few more hours just in case but there doesn't seem to be any side effects." He nodded toward the monitor. "How about his little friend?"

"No sign of him."

Stephan nodded then clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Got to get back. Talk to you later."

"Yeah, right. Lunch?"

"Sure. Fresh Aire, Noon?"

"I'll be there."

Michael turned back to the monitor, glaring at his look alike. With a curse, he rose and walked out the corridor and to the cell, opening it and walking in.

The man didn't twitch and Michael wondered if he was in a trance then his eyes opened and he turned his head to look at him impassively. The security chief paused, wondering what he hoped to accomplished. It threw him off, how much this man looked like him then surprise and alarm flared in the other's eyes as they shifted to something behind him and he was scrambling off the bed to his feet.

Michael looked behind him and moved to one side. "Ambassador Kosh! What ..."

The Vorlon didn't answer. His head piece was turned toward the man on the bed. Michael turned back to see his look alike staring wide-eyed at the Vorlon. Lines of pain appeared on his face and he stepped back before abruptly doubling over, hands clamping to his mouth and nose. Blood dripped from between his fingers.

Michael dropped a hand to his PPG, unsure if it would even work against the Vorlon. "Ambassador!" He said sharply.

There was a thump and he jerked his head back to see his double hit the wall hard and fall to the ground, stunned. Blood now covered his mouth and nose and more blood was starting to ooze from his ears. His face was a mask of pain and Michael realized that Kosh was trying to break through the man's shield.

"Ambassador!" Angry now, Michael stepped between the Vorlon and his victim. For a moment, he seemed to feel a wave of something go through him and then Kosh's head piece shifted toward him. Behind him, he heard a stifled groan then the sound of retching. "He's in my custody. And unauthorized mind scans are illegal." He doubted the Vorlon cared a twitch about Earth laws but his authority was all he had.

The Vorlon seemed to study him intently then spoke a series of musical sounds. A single word #Circles# came through the translator then Kosh turned and drifted back through the door.

Circles? What the hell does that mean? Michael licked suddenly dry lips and turned to see his double on the ground, braced by an elbow as he wiped at the blood on his face, a pool of bloody vomit on the floor near him. Their eyes met and for a moment he saw something there he hadn't expected. He shook it off and tapped his link.

"Garibaldi to MedLab. I need a doctor at Security asap!"

Keying off the link, he walked over to the sink, wetting a towel and offering it to his double. Pushing himself up to lean back against the wall, he took it with a shaky hand and wiped at his face, leaving behind streaks of blood.

"What the hell happened?" The captain's voice came from the doorway and Michael stiffened at the accusation in the man's voice. He spun on his heel angrily.

"Captain, I may have screwed up big time in a hell of a lot of ways in a hell of a lot of places but I've never harmed anyone in my custody!"

"No. Not him." These few words were enough to make the prisoner turn even more pale. He drew his legs up against his chest, arms wrapped around his head. Pain was still etched on his face and Michael wondered what Kosh had done to him.

"What happened?" Sheridan asked again, this time with no accusation in his words.

"Kosh. Looked like he was trying to break through his shield."

Sheridan glanced at the man. "Did he succeed?"

"No." The man said grimly, eyes still tightly closed. He swallowed hard, resting his forehead against his knees. Sheridan and Michael exchanged looks.

Franklin appeared in the doorway. "What happened?" The doctor asked.

"Kosh." Sheridan and Michael spoke together.

"Why?" Franklin knelt next to the man, coaxing him into lowering his arms. He leaned back against the wall, not protesting as Franklin ran a scanner over him.

"Your guess is as good as mine." Michael said curtly, still stung by Sheridan's unspoken accusation.

"Hmmmm." Franklin suddenly reached over to grip the man's chin and Michael realized that the man had been avoiding looking at the doctor. Now Franklin forced his head toward him, using a small light to exam his eyes. "I thought so. Since I doubt that they're used for visual correction, I suggest you remove them."

"What?" Sheridan asked.

"Contacts."

The man's face twitched and he jerked away. After a moment, he bent his head, reaching up first to one eye and then the other. When he looked back up, his eyes were an unmistakable emerald green. He dropped the contacts into the doctor's outstretched hand.

Michael stepped forward, his face grim, and Stephan dropped them into his hand. "A trip to Medlab might be in order."

Michael eyed the prisoner thoughtfully. "Is that a doctor's order?"

"More like curiosity."

After some thought, Michael shook his head. "I think we've all had enough excitement for today. Maybe tomorrow."

"All right." Franklin reached into his bag to pull out a syringe and rubber strap. "But I want a blood sample."

"I've already lost enough blood." The prisoner muttered but he didn't resist as Franklin took a vial of blood.

"A little rest will help that. Here." He pulled a patch from his bag and peeled off the backing, pressing it onto the inner side of the man's wrist. "Painkiller for that headache." Franklin explained when the man flinched away. "Keep it on for as long as you need it." He pulled out another patch and offered it to Michael. "A spare, in case he still needs one in eight hours."

Michael glanced at the man, taking in the blood on his face and staining the jumpsuit. Stepping to the door, he called out to one of his men. "Wilson! Get a clean jumpsuit and let this guy take a shower then move him over to cell 3D. Close this one up for cleaning."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm sorry, Michael. Jumping to conclusions like that." Sheridan said quietly.

Michael sighed then shrugged. "It's okay. I can see where you'd get the wrong idea." He glanced at the man sitting on the floor, watching them warily. He stepped out of the room, Sheridan following. "I'm wondering why he spoke up the way he did. Most guys sitting in a cell would be happy to get their jailers in trouble."

Sheridan stepped aside to let Wilson enter the room and Franklin to exit it. "So why was Kosh trying to read his mind?"

"No idea. You going to talk to Kosh?" Michael asked as he led the way into his office.

"If I can. Good catch with the contacts, Stephen."

"They're a pretty good match. If his eyes weren't so green the color difference wouldn't have been noticeable."

"But because they are, it made the contacts look greener than my eyes really are." He paused. "I think I'm flattered that Talia actually knows what color my eyes are."

This brought chuckles from both Sheridan and Franklin.

"I want to check this blood against yours. You mind giving me a fresh sample?" Franklin reached into his bag.

"If it'll help, sure." Michael stripped off his jacket and started to roll up his sleeve, looking at the monitor where Wilson was putting restraints on the prisoner. "How the hell does he look so much like me?" He burst out in frustration.

"Surgery?" Sheridan suggested, glancing at the monitor as well. "Clone?"

"No obvious evidence of surgery." Stephan said as he withdrew the needle. "As for clone, clones take time to create. And why would someone create a clone then give him scars you don't have? Why would they create a clone, period?"

"And if he was sent here to take your place, why wouldn't he have just killed you?" Sheridan pointed out. "Leaving you alive doesn't make any sense."

Michael drew his arm back, bending it around the swab Franklin had pressed against the puncture. "Which makes this all the more confusing. It's giving me a headache. What?" This last was to Zack, who had just poked his head in the room.

"The Abbai Ambassador's aide is dead. Maybe murdered."

"Damn it!" Michael grabbed his jacket and ran out the door.

"Well, there goes lunch." Stephan muttered as he placed the vial of blood into his bag. The Captain chuckled.

"I'd offer but too damn busy. Later, Stephan."

"Yeah, later." He looked at the monitor, now showing an empty room, and shook his head.


	4. Chapter 4

Torque walked down the corridor of cells with the food cart, stopping at each occupied cell. After ordering the occupant to stand facing the far wall, back to the door, she would step in to set the tray on the table. Most of the prisoners were very short timers and no danger to her. Even so, Wilson walked with her, hand on his PPG, talking all the while about the new case. Actually a continuation of an ongoing case. Three deaths with an unknown poison. Two Lurkers and now an Ambassador's aide.

By the time they had reached the stranger's cell, Torque was mostly tuning him out. She had heard it all before. Automatically she opened the door and ordered the stranger with the chief's face to the back of the room, facing the wall. He moved with a liquid grace she couldn't help but admire. Banishing those thoughts from her head, she walked in to set the tray on the table, keeping a wary eye on him. She could see his face in the mirror over the sink and she paused at the expression there. He was, she realized, listening to what Wilson was saying.

Quickly Torque reviewed what Wilson had been saying. The murders, the unknown poison, the draining of a considerable amount of blood -- she straightened, meeting the man's eyes in the mirror. "What do you know about this?" She asked curtly and Wilson faltered to silence behind her, watching in confusion.

The stranger looked away, his face expressionless and she silently cursed. She was sure he knew something but wondered why she thought he would tell her anything. With a sigh, she turned to walk from the room.

"Wait!" The man turned so quickly that Wilson jumped, half-drawing his weapon. The prisoner stopped, giving him an oddly apologetic look. "I might know something. I might know what killed them."

Torque frowned, studying him intently. "I'll let the chief know." She stepped out of the room and locked the door before heading for the last occupied cell.

"Should we ..."

"We will but there's only one tray to drop off." Torque took up the last tray and dropped it off quickly, instructing the obviously disappointed Wilson to take the cart back to the mess hall then headed rapidly to the chief's office. Garibaldi was sitting at his desk, scowling at the monitor feed from the Abbai Ambassador's rooms. She knew that the Ambassador thought she was the one who was supposed to be murdered. She also knew the chief thought that as well.

Garibaldi glanced at her. "Yeah, Torque?"

"The prisoner in cell 3D says he thinks he knows what killed the aide." She cut right to the point and Garibaldi's eyes narrowed, darting toward the monitor where his double was pacing.

"And what do you think?"

"Wilson was talking about the murder and I saw his face when he heard what Wilson was saying. I think he knows something."

"Damn. Probably looking for a deal or something." He bit his lip then sighed. "Put restraints on him and take him to interview room one. Wait with him until I get there."

#

Twenty minutes later, Garibaldi opened the door and stepped into the interview room. The stranger glanced at him then returned to studying the monitor feed on the wall, his hands, bound by the restraints, resting on the table.

Torque glanced inquiringly at Garibaldi and he motioned for her to stay.

"I don't make deals." Garibaldi said coldly.

"I'm not asking for one." The other man returned, not looking away from the monitor.

Garibaldi frowned, unnerved. "So? What do you know?" His voice was harsher then he intended. The man looked sidelong at him but didn't answer. "You told Torque you knew what killed the Ambassador's aide." He pressed.

"I said I might know." He nodded toward the monitor. "And I do. I can see it."

"What?" Garibaldi barked, glancing at the monitor. All he could see were two of his men going over the room, searching the room carefully. The body had already been taken away for examination by Franklin. "What?" He repeated.

The man pushed himself to the feet. Torque let her hand drop to her weapon but didn't draw it. He ignored her as he walked close to the monitor, reaching up to point at a table to the right of the screen.

Garibaldi walked over to the monitor, peering at the table.

"Ask your men what they see on the table." Garibaldi gave him a sharp look. "I could tell you what it is but you won't believe me without proof. Ask them what they see on that table."

After a moment, Garibaldi activated his link. "Garibaldi to Allan."

"Allan here."

"Zack, look at that table to your left. Yeah, that one. Tell me what you see there." The look he gave his double promised bodily harm if this was a gag. "Just do it."

He reached over to magnify the image, centering on the table as Zack approached it.

"Tell him not to touch anything." The man said sharply as Zack reached for one of the items.

"Don't touch anything." Garibaldi said.

"Okay." Zack's hand dropped. "We got a lamp, three books, a plant, a bowl of fruit ..."

"Wait a minute! What was that?"

"A bowl of fruit." Zack said in obvious puzzlement, gesturing toward one of the items on the table.

"Bet he's hungry." The prisoner muttered.

Garibaldi's lips thinned, looking at the item Zack had gestured at. He didn't know what it was but it sure as hell wasn't a bowl of fruit. He abruptly keyed off the link, turning fiercely toward the other man, so fiercely he took a startled step back. Before the security chief could say a word he was talking.

"It's an illusion. The _morley dotes_ is projecting an illusion of what the being who is looking at it wants to see."

Garibaldi sent orders for the room to be evacuated and sealed. As he glared at the monitor, the man continued speaking. "Of course, the monitor sees what's really there and not the illusion."

"How's it work?" Garibaldi asked curtly.

"It's a predator plant with natural psionic ability. Not a conscious one. It projects a kind of mirror effect, making the being looking at it see what they want to see. When something comes close enough, it strikes, injecting a poison then sucking out blood."

"Where does it come from?"

The other man shrugged, eyes skittering away.

"Don't give me that. You know this much about it." Garibaldi stepped close to him, forcing him to raise his eyes and look directly at him.

"I think Minbar." He finally said.

"And you know about these things how ... did you bring it here?"

Indignation flared in the in other's eyes and his chin came up. "No." He said curtly, clasping his hands tightly together.

Garibaldi glared at him. "Sit down." He ordered, jerking his head toward the table. The man's face tightened but he obeyed. "Stay here." He said to Torque. "I'll be back."

#

"Thanks for helping out." Garibaldi gestured for Lennier to enter his office. "This guy says this plant comes from Minbar but I don't totally trust him."

"I am, of course, happy to help. The plant does sound familiar but the species I am thinking of has been extinct for several centuries. I do not see how one could be here." The Minbari was looking around with wide-eyed interest. Garibaldi couldn't help but smile. Sometimes Lennier reminded him of an over-eager puppy.

"Over here." Garibaldi pointed to the monitor where the Abbai's room could be seen. He adjusted the monitor to zoom in on the table. "There. The guy called it a _morley dotes_."

"That is not a Minbari word." Lennier leaned close, studying the alien plant.

"I didn't think it was." He scowled at the monitor showing the room where his double sat. Lennier followed his look with interest then returned to looking at the plant.

"It looks like a _kirtsa_ but as I said, they are extinct. I could check and make certain, if you like."

"Yeah, could you? Any information would be good."

"Of course. I will be back as soon as I can." Lennier headed out the door at a rapid walk, leaving Garibaldi grinning at his back.

#

Delenn paused, smiling at the sight of her aide scurrying down the hall, so intent on his destination that he was on the verge of passing her by when she spoke.

"Oh! Delenn. I am sorry. Mr. Garibaldi asked me to retrieve some information on the _kirtsa._ He believes there is one on the station."

"That's impossible. None exist. Where did he get this information?"

"I believe from the prisoner who looks so much like him." He paused thoughtfully, not noticing Delenn's sudden intent look. "The plant does look like an image of a _kirtsa _that I once saw. I will get the information and ..."

"Wait, Lennier. I know what one looks like. I will go talk to Michael. Would you please go find Captain Sheridan and ask him to come to Mr. Garibaldi's office? Then go make a copy of all information you can find on the _kirtsa_."

"Of course. Right away." The young Minbari swept away, leaving Delenn smiling after him.

The smile vanished, replaced by a concerned frown. Captain Sheridan had told her of this double; he seemed to think that it might have been an attempt by someone -- perhaps EA -- to get a ringer on the station. She was beginning to consider a much different possibility. Gathering her skirts, she hurried toward the security area.

She found the security chief in his office, scowling first at the monitor showing the alien plant then at the monitor showing his look alike. He looked up as she entered and hastily scrambled to his feet. "Ambassador. Delenn." He amended at her admonishing smile. He couldn't help but smile back.

"Lennier told me about this strange plant you have questions of." She glanced at the monitors. "I know what one looks like."

"Good. Here." He stepped aside, gesturing at the monitor. She stepped forward, studying the plant intently before sighing.

"Yes, that is a _kirtsa_." She turned to the other monitor, studying the man sitting at the table in the interview room. "And have you identified him?"

"No. Not yet."

"What do you know of him?" She persisted.

"Well, everything seems to say he's me. Same fingerprints, same DNA. Identical to me except for his eyes and the scars."

"But he hasn't tried to make that claim, has he?" Delenn said with interest and Michael looked startled.

"No, he hasn't."

"What has he done?"

Michael hesitated, wondering why she seemed to think it important then he told her everything that had happened. Captain Sheridan came in as he was finishing up, standing quietly as he finished.

"Why do I have this feeling you know what's going on?" Sheridan asked.

"I might have an idea." She threw him an amused look. "You won't like it."

"Try me."

"I believe that the reason he is so identical to Michael is because, in essence, that's exactly who he is." The two men exchanged glances. "The Michael Garibaldi of an alternative universe. A different reality. One where _kirtsa_ still exist."

"Is that possible?" Sheridan felt stupid the moment he said it. Delenn wouldn't have mentioned it if it wasn't possible.

"Hundreds of thousands of years ago, perhaps millions of years ago, an ancient race created a device that would allow beings to travel between universes. Between realities. Perhaps the same species that created the healing device Dr. Franklin has. Over time those devices have been scattered. Sometimes found, sometimes used. Usually disastrously. Now this man …" She looked toward the monitor. "Did your men question the people he talked to? What was he asking them?"

"About certain items. Merchandise they may have brought from wandering traders. He was particularly interested in a shipment of ivory from the Drazi home world one merchant had gotten." Michael glanced at the data crystal on his desk. "I did a quick search. There's no animal on Drazi that produces ivory."

"In other words, he is acting very much like a law enforcement officer and I believe that may be what he is."

"Only from another universe. Another reality." Sheridan said thoughtfully.

"Yes. Why he is here I cannot guess at. But he has harmed no one and has even helped." She glanced at the monitor with the _kirtsa_ on it.

"Why doesn't he just tell us then?" Sheridan asked.

"I suspect he is afraid of what might happen. Imagine what some people, some governments would do, if they found a person from another reality in their midst. Some beings would destroy entire worlds for such an ability. He does not know us, who we are or what we might do. I feel we must give him credit for speaking up as he did, concerning the _kirtsa,_ when he realized you did not know what it was. His sense of duty overriding his sense of preservation."

"Great. If that's what he is how do we convince him we're the good guys?" Michael asked. "I mean Talia can tell us if he's telling the truth but …"

"I think we must talk to him."

Sheridan nodded. "Michael, when we go in there, ask Torque to fetch Ms Winters and wait outside until we ask for her."

"Can we shut the monitor off?" Delenn asked suddenly. "If he is from another reality, it would be best if we kept it to ourselves."

Michael hesitated. "I can't stop the recording; that would set off bells everywhere but I can lock it so that only I or the captain can view what's recorded." He tapped in a command and the monitor went black. "That should do it. Shall we?"


	5. Chapter 5

The prisoner looked up as the door opened, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Sheridan. Then his eyes shifted and he stood abruptly as Delenn entered, an automatic gesture of respect. The next moment, he gave Sheridan a stricken look, as if realizing how much he'd just given away. He swallowed hard at the searching look Sheridan was giving him and looked away.

"Please. Sit down." Delenn said in her calm voice and he glanced back at her then at Michael as he entered the room, shutting the door behind him. After a moment he slowly sat down, resting his clasped hands on the table, eyes shifting from one to the other.

Sheridan remained where he was and he gestured for Michael to stay by the door. For the first time, he realized that the man sitting at the table was afraid. He was hiding it well but it showed in his eyes.

"You called that plant a …" Delenn looked at Michael.

"_Morley dotes_." He supplied and the man looked startled.

"I did? I … no, it's a _kirtsa_." He looked at Delenn. "My mistake."

"Perhaps." The man looked wary. "The problem is that the _kirtsa_ have been extinct for centuries."

The blood drained from the man's face and he shoved himself back to his feet, eyes darting around the room. Sheridan stepped forward, worried that he might do something drastic. Behind him, Michael rested his hand on his PPG.

"Please." Delenn shot a quick look at Michael and he reluctantly took his hand from his weapon. "We have no intention of harming you. We think we know who you are and we hope to help."

The man said nothing, eying her uncertainly. Sheridan started to step forward and the man stepped back, flinching as he hit the wall. Sheridan stopped in place. "You were here for several hours before you were discovered." He said quietly. "You must have a feel for the people here."

The prisoner looked at him, hands twisting in the restraints. Pressing back against the wall, he stared at the floor, obviously thinking. Out of the corner of his eye, Sheridan saw Michael shift his weight and gestured for him to stay still. As he did, the man raised his eyes to look at him and he could see the calculation in them. After a long searching moment, he looked at Michael and then back to Delenn. When the man finally spoke, Sheridan was startled. Not by what he said but by the fact he couldn't understand a word of it. But by the look of surprise on her face, Delenn obviously could.

She approached the prisoner. Pausing in front of him, she answered n the same language. He straightened, letting his hands fall, head bent as he studied her before replying. What she said next seemed to satisfy him and the fear mostly left his eyes, though they remained wary.

"What have you guessed?" He asked.

Delenn gestured him back to his chair and he hesitated for a moment before returning to the table and settling back down.

"That you are from a different reality, an alternate universe. From your actions, we believe you to be a law enforcement officer and that you are here for a reason. We also believe we might be able to help you with whatever that reason is." She slid into the chair across from him.

"And you'd believe what I tell you?" The man's voice was dry.

"As much as I'd like to take your word for what you say, our situation is perilous at best at the moment." Sheridan spoke up. "Which I think you know."

The man grimaced. "Yeah. You have one hell of an ugly situation building up here."

"Yes, we do but that doesn't have anything to do with this." Sheridan paused, curiosity getting the better of him. "You don't have this ... situation in your universe."

He shook his head. "No. Earth Force One wasn't destroyed. The President wasn't killed. Clark ended up dead. A lethal case of the flu."

"That scar on your back?" Michael asked.

The man's eyes flicked toward him. "A knife in the back from my aide. His mistake. He's dead. Got taken apart. And I'm not speaking figuratively." He smiled grimly at their shocked looks. "He attacked a senior officer. And I have some very loyal friends that Jack hadn't expected to be following me at the time."

After a moment, Michael shook his head. "If Jack had come to trial, he would have been spaced."

"True." Sheridan agreed. "But you can see why we need confirmation about what you say. There is some speculation that you're a ringer from EA or even from someone else."

"You don't believe that."

"No. If you were a ringer sent here to take Michael's place then Michael would be dead and we wouldn't be having this conversation."

The prisoner's eyes shifted from him to Michael then back. "Confirmation how?"

"I've sent for a telepath to monitor our conversation. She'll be able to tell if you are telling the truth."

"She? Ta …. Ms Winters?" He flushed at the sharp look Michael gave him. "If you want to use a telepath, Captain, I won't object but may I suggest a different telepath?"

"Talia's a professional." Michael said curtly. "She won't hold a grudge."

The man muttered something under his breath. Delenn was the only one to catch his words and his flush deepened at her curious look. He hesitated then turned to speak to her directly. "Different realities. In some cases very different. In my reality, Talia is my wife."

Michael stiffened at his words. "How did that happen?" He asked without thinking.

Amusement flared in the other's eyes. "After roughly five days of pretty much non-stop sex, the station ganged up on us and insisted we get married." He responded dryly and it was Michael's turn to flush. Delenn chuckled and after a moment, Sheridan did as well.

"You asked for it." He said to his security chief, who scowled back.

"Yeah, well. It would be best if Talia didn't hear that." He looked back at his double. "PsiCorp must have had a fit."

"No PsiCorp. What we have the Pegasi Foundation, which regulates psionics. And, no, some of them weren't very happy but there wasn't much they could do about it." He paused then added dryly. "I think the kindest thing one of them said concerning me was mongrel."

Sheridan's lips quirked. That did sound like something some PsiCorp members he knew would say. No, make that most PsiCorp members. He met Michael's amused eyes.

"I won't tell you what Tally said back. I don't think the old … man has quite recovered from it yet. But you can see why I'd prefer a different telepath. She would probably prefer it as well."

"Unfortunately there is no other telepath we trust enough to involve in this." He glanced at Michael. "It might be best if I explain it to her." Michael looked relieved and opened the door for him.

"Why would they gang up on you and insist you get married?" He asked as he closed the door, wondering if the man was pulling his leg.

"What?"

"You said they ganged up on you …" He stopped as the man shook his head.

"No. I said the _station_ ganged up on us and I meant the station. Our station is Ish'kirian_, _a member of a sentient machine race."

"We have no sentient machine race here." Delenn said.

"I noticed. Pity really. They're one of our staunchest allies. And great friends. As well as the biggest damn pains in the butts."

Michael could well imagine. Turning toward the monitor, he tapped at where the _kirtsa_ could be seen. "What do we do about this thing?"

"Incinerate it." He said immediately. "There's no antidote for the poison and you don't want to give anyone a chance of getting a hold of it."

"As I said, _kirtsa _are extinct here." Delenn spoke up quickly. "I think we would like a chance to study it. Why did you call it a … a _morley dotes_?" She asked the prisoner before he could protest.

"Well, ahhhh … you're changing the subject." He accused her and she smiled. After a moment, he sighed and leaned back in the chair. "Okay, fine. When they first started showing up, we had no idea what they were, just that they made for really good assassins. One of my people at the time loved to read 20th century books and in one of the series she reads there was a character called Morley Dotes. I think the phrase went 'There's no surer assassin then a Morley Dotes'. She started calling them that and the name stuck." His eyes flickered toward the door as it opened and a stone-faced Talia walked in, followed by Sheridan.

The prisoner straightened, meeting Talia's disdainful look with a coolly appraising look of his own. He shifted his hands back onto the table. "Could I please get something to drink?" He asked no one in particular and Michael stepped over to fill a glass with water and set it on the table in front of him. "Thanks."

Michael glanced at the restraints still on the man's wrists then at Sheridan, his expression questioning. The captain frowned thoughtfully then shook his head slightly. _Don't take them off yet._

Delenn started to rise but Talia waved her back down. "I'll stand. You know how this works?"

The prisoner looked up. "Yes."

"It would be easier without the shield."

Sheridan looked at the prisoner. "Can you lower it?"

He hesitated, indecision on his face. "I … yes, I can. I prefer not to."

Talia opened her mouth to say something and Sheridan quickly overrode her. "Can you tell if he's lying with the shield in place?"

Talia frowned. "Yes but that's all I'll be able to do. I won't be able to find out the truth when he does lie."

Anger flared in the man's eyes. "I can tell this PsiCorp doesn't bother to teach their people manners." He said flatly and Talia flushed.

'We'll worry about getting the truth _if_ he lies." Sheridan said curtly. "Are you ready?"

"In a moment." Talia looked at the man and he met her eyes without flinching. After a moment, he smiled slightly and she realized that he could feel the light connection she had established. That unnerved her; not many mundanes could do that. "Ready."

Sheridan pulled out the chair next to Delenn and sat down. "Who are you and where are you from?" He asked.

The man took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "My name is Michael Alfredo Garibaldi, most commonly called Mick. I am the High Warrior … your equivalent would be Chief of Security … of the Sacred Circle space station, located in the Epsilon Eridani binary star system at the fifth Lagrangian point between the planet Epsilon III ... better known as Ish'kiri ... and its moon."

"Ish'kiri?" Michael said suddenly. "Isn't that what you said the station was?"

"Yeah, Pallas Athena is Ish'kirian."

"How appropriate." Delenn murmured and he blinked but before he could say anything, she asked. "Who is your commanding officer?"

"John Sheridan." Mick replied without hesitation then he added. "As High Commander. Susan Ivanova and Pallas Athena are co-Commanders. Our system is different then yours." He explained when he saw the questioning look on Sheridan's face. "Many upper-rank positions are shared. Pallas Athena is Commander by virtue of actually being the station."

"You were outside when Mick mentioned that the station is, in reality, a member of a sentient machine species." Delenn explained.

"Is that good or bad?"

"Depends on who you ask. Most beings don't mind. Some do. I personally have no problem with it. It's handy having a system that can communicate with you. Not so handy if she insists on arguing with you but you deal with it."

"Happen often?" Sheridan smiled.

"More often then I care to think about." He hesitated. "It's actually more complicated then that. I'm not sure how much you want to know about that right now."

It was obvious that Sheridan was curious but he stifled it. "I'd love to hear more about your station and … reality but right now, let's get this out of the way." He paused, debating his next question. "How did you get here?"

Mick's eyes skittered sideways and Sheridan suspected he was debating what to say, perhaps even thinking of lying. After a moment of thinking, he looked back at Sheridan. "I'm going to have to explain this in a roundabout manner for it to make any sense. And I think I'll end up answering your next question while I'm at it." Sheridan raised an eyebrow and he smiled slightly. "Why am I here."

Sheridan nodded. "Fine."

"Eons ago, there was a species that has since disappeared, leaving behind several items that have been turning up in the worst places. Among these items are nexus gates, devices used to open gates between alternate universes. Most times, when found, they are destroyed but sometimes beings decide to use them." He paused, drumming his fingers on the table.

"You have one?" Delenn asked.

"No …"

"That's a lie." Talia said coldly and Mick frowned.

"If you'll let me finish the sentence." He said acidly and the woman flushed. "No, I ... we don't have one but there is one stored on Ish'kiri. We do occasionally refer to it as ours." He glowered at Talia and her lips thinned but she nodded. "To continue. A few months ago items started coming into our station; we couldn't figure out from where. They weren't coming through the docks or customs and some of the items not even the most insane smuggler was going to try and bring into the station in the conventional way."

He paused, absently rolling the glass of water between his palms before taking a drink. Lowering the glass, he glanced from Sheridan to Delenn, his eyes thoughtful. "One of the advantages of having an Ish'kiri as the station is that she notices things. Things a standard computer can't. And when an Ish'kiri tells you her skin itches for no good reason, you listen." He smiled at the look on Sheridan's face. "You listen, track down where she says the itch is, and run tests until you find out why."

"And?" Michael asked.

"In order to use a nexus gate, you have to attach it to a solid object. Most often a wall. And, speaking as someone who has stepped through one, gates do make your skin itch. It didn't take long to figure out that someone had used the wall to open up a gate. So we borrowed the nexus gate from Ish'kiriand set it up."

"And it opened to here." Michael spoke up.

"Yeah. One of the lesser known facts about nexus gates. If you open one where another's been, they will commonly open to the same place. I came through to check it out. Alone at first."

"What happen to the guy who was with you?' Michael asked suddenly. "Remy?"

"He went back. I'll get to that." Michael hesitated, glancing at Talia. When she gave no indication that Mick was lying, he gestured for him to continue. "It didn't take much to work out what was going on. Someone had found a nexus gate and was using it to smuggle items between our two universes. Things that are illegal in one are legal in the other. Items that are cheap in one are expensive in the other." He glanced at the monitor. "And someone apparently figured out that no one here knows what a_ morley dotes_ is and suddenly you have the perfect assassin. If I hadn't been here, I doubt you would have figured it as quickly."

Michael nodded in agreement. "And since it's an extinct species then it wouldn't have turned up as a possibility."

"I went back and reported. We finally decided to send just a couple people through and attempt to track down information. When we realized that many of the people on our station were also on this station, we decided to go for quick and dirty. I'd replace your security chief and do as long of an investigation as I could, though no more then eight hours. I had an immediate problem with eye color … Remy had to slip back and find contacts. I'd already taken care of …" He stopped dead, biting his lip.

Sheridan knew immediately he'd said something he hadn't meant to. "What?"

Mick wavered, his hands moving restlessly on the table. His eyes flickered between Sheridan and Delenn, finally settling on the Minbari woman. "I have tattoos." He said finally. "They're covered with makeup."

"Can you remove it?" Delenn asked in interest. "I, for one, would like an easier way to tell you two apart."

To Sheridan's surprise, Mick actually seemed to relax at Delenn's words. For the first time, he realized that Mick seemed to have an easier time talking with her and he couldn't help but wonder why.

"A combination of soap, alcohol, and water. A shower would be easiest. The tattoos cover most of my left side." He grinned at the surprise on Sheridan's face. "Tattoos are common in my reality. Used for a variety of reason. Though in my particular case, the tattooist got carried away."

"We'll see about getting the makeup removed later." Sheridan said and Mick nodded.

"Anyway, I avoided other security people as I could, asked questions and just observed. I found items that I'm fairly certain came from my universe."

"The ivory." Michael spoke up.

"Oh, yeah. Definitely. I recognized it as Rathorn ivory and from what I've seen, you don't have Rathorns in your universe. I was getting ready to pack it in when Ms Winters realized I wasn't ... the right person. We were heading toward our gate when you caught up with us. We split up and, well, you know the rest."

"Except what happened to Remy."

Mick smothered a chuckle and held up a hand in a 'wait a minute' gesture. "There are different kinds of nexus gates. The ones most common are about the size a dinner plate. You put it against a surface, normally a wall, and you turn it on and it opens the gate. In order to use it, it has to be fully charged and it usually takes about two weeks to charge. Slow and steady. If you try and force it to charge faster, it could explode. Or implode, depending. Once you set it up, there's a surge of energy as it opens, which can be detected if you're using the correct sensor. However, once it's open, it can stay open for an indefinite amount of time."

"So that gate's been open all this time?" Michael's voice rose and Mick winced.

"The original gate was opened in an area we refer to as the Triangle, which happens to in the same place as the Triangle here. When we opened our gate, yes, we left it open. It was covered with a blanket."

"Where exactly?" Michael pressed.

Mick looked over his shoulder at him, not answering.

"That is where the gate will be opened again?"

Mick hesitated then sighed. "Yeah. Safest place. But not for two weeks. They have to recharge it."

"Which means you're stuck here for two weeks." Sheridan said and Mick nodded.

"I still want the location. Just in case." Michael insisted.

Mick hesitated, his face a mask of indecision. "Fine." He finally gave him coordinates and Michael wrote them down. "When you check it out, be careful touching the wall. Nothing dangerous but the gate leaves behind a residue. And touching it does make your skin itch."

"So he went through and then closed the gate?"

"After an hour or if your men got too close."

"And they'll open it again in two weeks?"

"Yeah. Hopefully."

"So the gates, both of the gates, are coming from your reality?" Delenn asked.

"From all appearances, yes."

"Do you know who is behind this?" Sheridan asked.

Mick's eyes narrowed. "No."

"That's a lie." Talia said curtly and Mick stiffened, lips thinning.

"No." Sheridan said. "I don't think it is."

"Captain!" Talia said in indignation.

"Please, Talia." He met Mick's eyes. "You're a law enforcement officer and you think like one. You know who's behind this but you can't prove it." Mick swallowed hard but didn't deny it. "Who do you _think_ is behind this?"

Mick glanced down but not before Sheridan caught a glimpse of raw emotion in his eyes. When he looked back, his eyes were steady and impassive. "A man named Valera. A smuggler, among other things. Everything we've found says he's operating from this station."

Talia watched the man, narrow-eyed. Granted, she and Michael were friends but for this man to claim that they were married, even in another reality was too much. Okay, he was telling the truth about that but now he was hiding something. Not lying, no but she could tell he wasn't telling the whole truth.

"Why from this station?" Sheridan asked.

Mick shrugged. "He's wanted in mine. Apparently he isn't here."

"That's not the complete truth." Talia spoke up, crossing her arms. Mick shot her an angry look but said nothing.

Sheridan glanced at her then back at Mick. "In order to help you, we need to know everything."

Mick's breath caught. "It has nothing to do with this." He said flatly.

"Now that is a lie." Talia said coolly, feeling a stab of satisfaction. The man didn't look at her but his jaw tightened. What she could reach of his mind was now in turmoil and images were coming through. Strong emotion often exposed more of a person then they realized and while the shield prevented a deeper scan, forcing emotional response to questions often brought memories and thoughts to the surface where she could reach them. Quickly, she wrapped her thoughts around the memories that appeared in response to the current subject and pulled them forward.

_Earth. Paris. She could see the Eiffel Tower in the distance. Mick standing in the garden of a small cottage, talking to another man his memories called Girard, a French law enforcement officer. Just talking, watching Girard's dog romp around them ..._

Sheridan saw Mick's eyes widened then he jerked his head around to shout at Talia. "Get out of my head!" But it was already too late. The memories Talia had found overwhelmed her.

_A woman almost identical to her appears in the doorway. A voice ... her voice ... calling to Mick, telling him that a package had just arrived for him, laughing as the dog ran pass her, into the house. Mick swearing good-naturally as he and Girard started for the cottage to haul the animal back out then all laughter stopped as an explosion ripped through the quiet evening and Mick found himself on the ground, staring dazedly at the sky through a veil of his own blood, a sudden emptiness echoing in his mind ..._

Suddenly horrified, Talia opened her mouth but nothing would come out. The memories she had teased from Mick's mind were too strong to stop.

_He was on his feet, half-stumbling half-crawling toward the shattered cottage. People were appearing, neighbors and passersby, exclamations of horror ringing in his ears. He knelt next to his wife, tearing off his shirt to press against a wound in her chest. Alive, she was still alive. Her eyes were open and she was mouthing something at him. Someone appeared next to him, speaking in French, identifying herself as a nurse and he left Tally to her care, running into the cottage ..._

With a agonized cry, Mick lunged to his feet but Michael and Sheridan were there, pushing him back against the wall with a thump. Talia backed away, mouthing words that wouldn't come out.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry

_The living room was in chaos, the beautiful antique furniture in ruins but he had eyes only for the crib that had been set under a window in the dining room, barely three feet from the epicenter of the explosion, now broken and buried under a pile of debris. He lunged for it, tearing his hands on broken glass, blinded by blood. His blood pooled on the floor, mingling with the blood already there. Fear and grief gave his strength to tear away the suffocating wood and plaster to see ... to see ..._

Talia wanted to scream but found she couldn't. She felt arms around her, Delenn's voice calling her but she was caught in the memories.

_He was screaming in rage and grief and denial; his son's name, over and over again until words failed him and he just screamed. Hands grabbing him, dragging him away in a remarkably gentle way but he was a trained warrior and he fought, leaving injuries and breaking bones of people who were only trying to help, who refused to let go of him even as their bones broke. They dragged him outside and to the ground and he felt the coolness of a hypo against his throat, sending him into blessed darkness ..._

Mick jerked his head forward, connecting with Michael's forehead, sending him reeling back. He shoved Sheridan to one side but he didn't lunge forward again. Instead, he spun, slamming the side of his right hand against the wall as hard as he could. Bones broke and physical pain shattered the connection Talia had created. She gasped at the severing and her legs gave away but there was a chair already there and Delenn helped her sit in it.

Michael shook his head to clear it and started forward but Mick was sinking to the ground, cradling his hand, the fingers already swelling. He leaned back against the wall, drawing his legs up, not looking at anyone, his breathing harsh. His eyes were an agony of grief.

Sheridan and Michael looked at each other then back at Talia. The woman was shaking, tears running down her face. She opened her mouth then closed it, shaking her head slowly. She looked at Delenn, still next to her and gestured toward Mick. _You talk to him._

Delenn nodded and moved forward. Sheridan frowned then remembered how Mick had responded to the Minbari woman. He moved to one side, nodding at Michael to do the same, though they both remained alert.

To their surprise, Delenn sank gracefully to her knees next to the man. He looked at her, no expression on his face. "What happened?" She asked in her soft voice.

Mick looked at Talia, surprised to see the tears on her face, the sympathy in her eyes and his throat tightened.

"I'm sorry." The woman finally managed to get the words out. "I'm sorry but I think you should tell them."

_You should tell them_. Not _i__f you don't tell them I will_. He looked down at his hand, seeing that two of his fingers were bent in directions they weren't meant to go but there was no pain. Yet. He swallowed hard.

"Valera is responsible for the death of my son." His voice sounded loud in the room and he blinked back tears. He heard Delenn's breath catch, felt her hand gentle on his arm.

"I am sorry." Her voice was incredibly kind and sad and he closed his eyes against remembered pain, reaching up to wipe at his eyes.

Michael and Sheridan stared at each other in dismay then Michael looked back at Talia. She tried to smile at him but failed miserably.

"How ..." Delenn stopped, not wanting to ask but he looked at her with a bitter smile.

"A package bomb addressed to me. It was supposed to go off when I opened it but a friend's dog knocked it off the table. I was outside when it went off. Tally was in the doorway. Joshua ... Joshua's crib was ..." He stopped dead, seeing again that shattered crib. "He wasn't even two months old." His voice was numb with grief.

Sheridan turned away to stare at the wall blindly. Two months old -- He glanced at Michael, who was staring at the wall above Mick's head, his jaw working angrily.

"And you know Valera is responsible?" He asked.

"Yeah. I was investigating his operations on the station and he wanted to get me out of the way. He arranged to have the bomb sent to me while we were on vacation on Earth; hoping that would throw off the investigation. A friend of mine managed to track down the guy who built the bomb and backtracked it to Valera. We have the evidence but can't find him. Then this gate showed up and we started finding evidence that he'd come over here, where he wasn't a wanted man and was running his operations from here."

"And you volunteered to come after him." Sheridan said.

"I came over to find out what was going on and to confirm he was here." Mick corrected. Sheridan looked at him, trying to read his eyes then he looked down at the man's hand.

"That has to be hurting."

"Not yet. But it will soon."

"Call Dr. Franklin here?" Michael asked and Sheridan shook his head.

"Medlab has a water shower."

Michael nodded in agreement and reached down to help Mick to his feet.

"Talia and I will follow in a few minutes." Delenn took Sheridan's offered hand, rising gracefully to her feet. Sheridan glanced at the still-shaken Talia and nodded.

"I'll come over in a few minutes as well." He said. "Take one of your people along. Someone who can keep their mouth shut."

Michael nodded and escorted Mick from the room. "Zack! Good. Come with us."

Zack blinked at the sight of the broken fingers. "What happened?" He asked in a horrified tone.

Mick laughed raggedly, glancing at Michael. "You're going to start getting a bad reputation." He sobered at the look Michael gave him. "Sorry. Not funny. I broke them. Sudden unexpected pain is a good way to break light telepathic links." He explained at the look Zack gave him.

"I'll have to remember that." Michael muttered. "Come on."

* * *

Thank you for all the reviews. (So, CroatonRoanak, is it going the way you thought? :D) I'll be posting slower now but watch for another part next week. The series that Mick speaks of with Morley Dotes is the Garrett P.I. series by Glen Cook.


	6. Chapter 6

Sheridan heard Mick's explanation to Zack with a sad smile before turning back to the women. "Here. We'll escort you to your quarters, Talia."

She stood on shaky legs. "I have an appointment." She started but both Sheridan and Delenn were shaking their heads firmly.

"Cancel it." Sheridan said shortly. "You're in no condition to do any scans."

"I ... all right. I will. Captain ..." She paused in the hallway, waiting for a couple to pass before continuing. "Mick is exactly what he says he is but there's something else. There's ..." She shook her head in frustration.

"I think I know." Sheridan started but Talia was shaking her head.

"No, Captain, it's …" She closed her eyes then opened them quickly, trying to dispel the image she'd seen. "He found his son, Captain. In the crib. What was left of the crib. Flying glass had …" Much to Sheridan's relief, she stopped, not describing what she'd seen. "I think the baby was a telepath. That he had a mental link with his parents. I think … I'm very much afraid that Mick felt his son die."

Sheridan closed his eyes briefly against that thought then opened them to look into Delenn's stricken eyes. "I'm surprised he's sane." He looked sharply at Talia. "He is sane, isn't it?"

"As near as I can tell, yes. It would take a very deep scan to know for certain. At that time ..." She shook her head slowly. "The last thing I saw … They sedated him on the spot, once they dragged him away from the crib. Then he broke the link and I didn't see anything else."

They walked in silence for a long moment. "Are you thinking of a deep scan?" Talia asked tentatively.

"Not at the moment." Sheridan reassured her. "And hopefully it won't become necessary." He paused at the door to her quarters. "Now go in and rest. And please, don't talk to anyone about this." Once she was safely in her room, Sheridan and Delenn turned toward the Medlab.

"You think he means to kill Valera." Delenn said quietly.

"If I was in his shoes, that's what I'd want to do. The question now is what we are going to do with him." He paused, his expression pensive. "We don't know him. Just because he looks like Michael, is in fact Michael, he still comes from a different universe." He paused. "I have images of this old science fiction series running through my head. Where the ... What was it called? The away team returns to some mirror universe where everyone is a dark evil caricature of the people they knew."

Delenn chuckled. "That is fiction. This is real life. Consider this. Mick was in a position to harm Michael. To harm Talia. And he did not. Granted, Michael was uncomfortable and Talia was rendered unconscious but he could have done much worse. And the weapon he used contained nothing more than a sleeping agent."

"True. He could have used that knife. Doesn't answer the question of what to do with him."

"Yes. Well, I have some thoughts."

#

Michael was grateful to reach the Medlab without drawing undue attention. Mick helped by keeping his head down though anyone looking closely enough would have seen his resemblance to the security chief. Medlab was blessedly empty when they arrived and Michael caught Stephen's eyes. The doctor finished his instructions to the nurse and came over, his sharp eyes immediately seeing the broken fingers.

"What ..."

"Long story." Michael interrupted him. "Private room?"

"Over here." He led the way into an exam room, gesturing Mick toward the table. "It would be easier if you could remove the restraints."

Michael already had the key out. Mick held out his hands and Michael removed the restraints, frowning at what he saw. "Why the hell didn't you say anything?" He demanded.

Mick shrugged, looking at the rash visible on his wrists then looked at the inside of the restraints. "The plastic parts. Guess I have an allergy to them." He pulled himself onto the table, rubbing at his wrists.

Michael sighed, tossing the restraints to Zack. "Hopefully we won't need them again. Close the door, Zack." Leaning back against the wall, he explained who Mick was and what he was doing on Babylon 5, leaving out only who his wife was and his personal connection with Valera. At Zack's disbelieving look, he added that everything had been confirmed by Talia.

"Well, that explains a lot of things." Stephan bound the broken fingers. "I've given you a regen pack. These should heal in a couple days but keep the splints on for at least twenty-four hours. I'll get you a painkiller patch. And since you're here, I'd like to give you a full physical."

Mick sighed tiredly, rolling his neck as if to get rid of stiffness. "Fine. But only if I get a shower afterward. I'd love to get this makeup off."

Michael chuckled. "Come on." He said to Zack, opening the door. Closing it after him, he glanced around the room. "Stay here. I'll be back in a few."

#

Michael returned fifteen minutes later, a bundle under his arm. Captain Sheridan and Delenn were already there, talking together in low tones. Sheridan glanced at the bundle, raising an inquiring eyebrow.

"Clothes for Mick. Figured he didn't need to be wearing a prisoner jumpsuit any longer." He explained, feeling embarrassed for some reason. He glanced down at the bundle then at Delenn. "I, ahhh, borrowed a Ranger uniform from Jason. Without the pin. I figured, they have hoods. It would help to hide ..." He was stumbling over his words. Jason, the only Ranger he knew as tall and broad-shouldered as he was, hadn't minded him borrowing his spare uniform but he was afraid that having someone who wasn't a Ranger wearing a Ranger uniform might be perceived as an insult.

"I think that's a good idea." Delenn assured him with a smile and he grinned back in relief.

"We've been thinking." Sheridan glanced at Delenn. "It might be a good idea to help Mick get this resolved and get him out of here. The last thing we need is for Clark and his people ... or the PsiCorp or anyone else for that matter ... to find out about nexus gates. Or get their hands on him." He nodded toward the room where Mick was.

"Yeah, I was thinking about that. I can dummy up an identity for him but I doubt it will hold up if Earth gets control."

"If push comes to shove, Delenn's offered to get him to Minbari. Not that that will get him back to his reality but." John shrugged.

"It will keep him out of Clark's hands." Delenn finished.

"For now, Michael, find an unused room and marked it under repairs. Restrict the access to it; make sure Mick won't be able to open it. We'll set up a command base there for this." He glanced at Zack. "Get a couple more of your people, ones that can keep their mouths shut and they can switch shifts. I want someone with him all the time." He smiled slightly at Michael's look. "I suspect he's a lot like you, Michael, and I would not be at all surprised if you knew how to bypass the door."

Michael blinked. "No comment, sir." He said evasively and Sheridan's smile widened. The security chief turned to Zack. "Go find a room as close to command quarters as you can. Have Lou and Torque meet me in my office in an hour. I'll explain things to them." He hesitated. "And get his boots and that ring as well, bring them back here. I don't think it'll hurt to give those back to him."

After a moment, Sheridan nodded. "Just make sure there's nothing in those boots that shouldn't be there."

"Yes, sir." Zack left the Medlab.

"So we're going to trust him?' Michael asked the Captain.

"Yeah. To a point." He paused, frowning at the closed door. "I want him working with us. He knows the situation better then we do and he knows Valera, if he is the one who is behind this, that is. Plus he can identify items brought over from his reality. The problem is ..."

"You think he's planning to kill Valera." Michael finished.

"What do you think?"

Michael pressed his lips together, thinking about what he'd do in the same situation then not answering because he knew what the answer would be.

Sheridan nodded. "Yeah, I kind of figured." Michael looked away and Sheridan slapped his shoulder lightly. "We can't let him do that. Which is why I want someone with him 24/7. I realize it may leave us short on security personnel but maybe we can find others we can trust to help out as well. For now, we'll go with what we have."

"Captain, when I told Stephan and Zack about Mick, I didn't mention who his wife was or about ... about the baby. I couldn't, not with him there. Should I tell my people?"

"I hate to say it but I think we better. Otherwise things are going to be said that will confuse them. Just make sure they keep their mouths shut. I'll tell Stephan later."

"Yes, sir."

"Now I have a meeting, which I'd rather not go to."

"And I am at the same meeting." Delenn sighed.

"I'll wait for Zack to get back." Michael set the bundle on the table next to him, leaning against it to wait.

#

Zack came back twenty-five minutes later,. In a quiet monotone, Garibaldi told him the rest of the story, everything he hadn't said in front of Mick. When he was done, Zack looked sick.

"Here's some clothes for Mick." Garibaldi patted the bundle. "I want to go talk with Lou and Torque about what's going on and what I want them to do. Knowing Dr. Franklin, that exam will take at least another hour. Let him take a shower and change then escort him to the room. Then stay with him until Lou or Torque come to take over."

"Gotcha, chief."

#

"Where did that scar come from?" Stephan asked and Mick glanced down at his chest.

"Centauri knife. Serrated. Long story."

Stephan gave him a severe look but didn't press. "Fine." He made notes, frowning at what he was seeing. Turning to his computer, he called up Michael's file and compared them.

"Something wrong, doc?"

Stephan glanced at him. "You're in perfect health, if it weren't for the broken fingers."

"And identical to your security chief?"

"If it weren't for the scars and eyes."

Mick chuckled at that. "That's what we were counting on."

"Did you ever think of just asking for help?"

Mick's smile faded. "No."

Stephan waited then sighed. "Why do I feel there's a story behind that?"

"A long one." Mick agreed.

"Right. I'll show you where the shower is. What do you need?"

"Soap, alcohol. Need the combination of the two with water to remove the makeup." He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the table.

Stephan pulled out a small bottle of alcohol. "There's soap in the shower. Come on."

Zack stood up as they came out. "The chief sent over some clothes. And your boots. And this." He pulled a small bag from his pocket.

Mick's breath caught. "Thanks. I was wondering how to ask for it back." He curled his unbroken fingers around the ring, gathering up the clothes and boots with his other arm.

"Over here. A word of warning. The water flips to ice-cold after ten minutes."

"Figures." Mick grumbled.

#

Fifteen minutes later, Mick stood in front of the sink, staring at the mirror. Taking a towel, he wiped mist from the mirror and looked at himself. He'd taken off all the makeup covering his tattoos and it was a relief to see himself as _himself_ again. He sighed.

This isn't what he'd planned. The last thing he wanted. He could only hope that these people were more like the people he knew then different. If not then he was royally screwed. He stepped back and reached for the bag, pausing at the sight of the scar on his right side, remembering what had happened when he'd been arrested and taken back to the holding area. He hadn't meant to speak but the words had come involuntarily.

_With the help of a friend_

Yeah. A damn good friend. And boy, did he wish he was here.

He reached for the clothing given to him. Dark in color and light-weight, they were made in the Minbari style. The pants were loose in the leg, perfect for fighting and the shirt -- he looked over the shirt thoughtfully then set it to one side. He wanted his tattoos to be seen. Picking up the dark tunic, he looked it over in satisfaction. It was sleeveless, just the way he wanted it, and with a hood. Perfect. He pulled it on, tightening the belt and leaving the hood down for now. Once he pulled it up and with his tattoos clearly visible, few people would notice his resemblance to Babylon 5's security chief.

He sat down to pull on his boots, frowning when he realized the light brown soft hide boots didn't match the rest of the clothing. Oh well. Running his hands through his hair, he met his eyes in the mirror and grimaced then looked down at the ring resting on the sink. He took a deep breath, picking it up tenderly. He should have left it behind, safe with his wife but he just couldn't. He slipped it onto his finger, caressing the metal gently.

He'd been surprised that the High Commander had agreed to allow him to cross over into this universe to gather information. They'd been treating him with kid gloves ever since the explosion. A part of him suspected that something was being planned but no amount of ferreting on his part could get a hint of what was going on. Well, this trip got him away from that. Now, barring a miracle, he was stuck here for at least two weeks.

He hoped it was just two weeks. If something happened and they couldn't reopen the gate ... If something were to happen here ...

He forced those thoughts from his head. He was here to do a job and he'd do it as best he could. Picking up the shirt, he opened the door and stepped from the bathroom.

#

Both Zack and Stephan turned as the door open, the latter almost dropping the scanner he held. He knew that Mick had said he had tattoos but he hadn't expected this.

Spiraling tendrils of flame were visible on his arm, winding from the back of his hand and up his arm to his shoulder, disappearing under the tunic and then reappearing on his neck, edging up his face. But only on his left side. The tattoos stopped abruptly at the exact center of his body and face, giving them an unfinished look.

"Not finished?" Stephan finally managed to ask.

Mick looked surprised, glancing down at his arm. "Oh, they're finished. Just not on me." He grinned at the looks on their faces. "It's part of a blood brother ritual. The tattoos are finished on him." He gestured toward his right side.

"Oh."

"You don't have anything like this?"

"Not that I know of. Here." Stephan held out a couple of patches. "Painkillers. Use one every eight hours as you need it. If you need any more, just let me know."

"Thanks." Mick slipped them into his pocket. "Now what?" He looked from Stephan to Zack.

"We got a room set up." Was all Zack said and Mick looked at him with a frown. After a moment he shrugged and reached up to pull the hood over his head, concealing his face in the shadows. Zack gestured toward the door but Mick paused, rubbing at his wrist. "Doc, you got something for this rash? Itches."

Stephan glanced at the rash with a frown before going to a nearby cabinet and pulling out a small bottle. "Here. This should help the itching." He tossed it to him and Mick caught it deftly, slipping it into a pocket. "I'll check it later."

"Thanks." He followed Zack out the door.

* * *

The story of Mick's relationship with Delenn is coming up in about part 8. And I'd love to hear your guesses later, CR.


	7. Chapter 7

Zack tried not to appear nervous but he knew he wasn't succeeding, even before the other man spoke to him in a low voice.

"Relax. I've no intention of trying to escape."

Zack jumped, despite himself. He sounded so much like the chief! Mick didn't seem to notice as he continued.

"It'll be a lot easier to figure out what's going on working with you people then on my own." They walked silently for a moment until they were past any people. "But can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Delenn. The hair …" He glanced at a Minbari walking toward them. "Has she always …"

"No." Zack said. "First year she was here, she looked like other Minbari. Then she changed.'

"Oh." Silence for a moment. "Any particular reason why?"

"Probably. But she hasn't said it."

Mick chuckled. "Now that sounds like a certain Minbari I know."

Zack grinned at that but before he could say anything, his link beeped for his attention. He keyed it on. "Allan here."

"Zack." The Captain's voice came over the link. "Bring Mick to my office please."

Zack glanced at the other man, who was looking pensive. "On our way. Allan out."

As they approached the Captain's office, Mick muttered something then sighed. Zack glanced at what caught his attention and grinned at the sight of Lou Welch standing by the door. The stocky balding security officer was alert, watching Mick warily as they approached.

The door opened as they approached but Mick paused before going through, looking at Lou directly. "Sorry about the sleep dart."

Lou blinked, obviously surprised at the apology. "Ahhhh, yeah. Sure. Like I told the chief, best eight hours sleep I've had since I've gotten on the station."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Mick stepped into the office.

Michael glanced up as he entered, his eyes shifting to Zack. "Zack, you go back to the station house. Lou'll take over."

"Yes, sir."

Mick paused in the middle of the room, looking around. Sheridan was sitting at his desk, Michael slouching against the wall nearby. Delenn was seated in one chair, Susan Ivanova in another. He couldn't help but smile at a sudden wayward thought.

Susan had been studying him intently from the moment he walked through the door and her eyes narrowed at the unexpected smile. "What?" She demanded.

He threw her a wry look. "I was just thinking … all this needs is Pallas Athena showing up and my day would be complete."

Susan looked at him in surprise, remembering what the Captain had said about the station in Mick's reality. "Does it do that often?"

"She." Mick corrected. "Of course. She is part of the crew. Unfortunately she's fond of 20th century comic books and the forms she takes can be interesting to say the least." He caught the look on Susan's face. "Holograms."

"Oh." She paused. "Interesting tattoos."

"So people tell me." He reached up to lower the hood, glancing around at the foursome.

"Have a seat." Sheridan directed and Mick stepped to the chair in front of his desk, settling in, his eyes watchful. "There are some things we have to establish before we continue." He flicked a look around the others. "We all agree that the best thing we can do it help you resolve this situation and get you back home. Unfortunately we may not have time. Did you take a look at the complete situation here?"

"While I was in the holding area, I took some time to listen and to work out what was happening." He paused, chewing on his lip. "I'm surprised the official orders for Nightwatch haven't come through."

"We're having problems with communications." Sheridan said, deadpan and Mick's lips quirked. "Right now, Clark is trying to beat Mars and the other colonies into submission to push it but it won't be long before he turns his attention to us. If you're still here when that happens and if he wins …"

"I'm royally screwed." Mick finished, all amusement fading then his eyes narrowed. "And so are you."

Sheridan looked at him, strangely touched that he'd be concerned for them. "We have a couple contingency plans in place that will at least hide you but they won't get you home. "

Mick looked away. "It's a start." He said finally.

"I'd like to have you working with Michael and his people to get this resolved. You know the situation, you know the people involved. And you have less than two weeks before you can get home. I doubt you want to spend it in a cell."

"Not particularly, no."

"What I want is for you to consider yourself on detached duty to this station." Mick's eyes narrowed but Sheridan pressed on. "Taking orders from me and working with Michael as a consultant." Sheridan met Mick's eyes and held them without wavering, hating the questions he had to ask but knowing that they were necessary. "The first thing we have to establish is whether you are fit for duty."

Mick went completely still as he realized what Sheridan was saying. "What did Ms. Winters tell you?" He asked, his voice wooden.

Delenn answered before the captain could. "She thought that your son was a telepath. That …" She paused at the look of agony in Mick's eyes then pressed on, her voice soft. "That you felt him die."

He stared at her for a long moment, his jaw working. "She's right. He was. And I did, though I didn't realize it at the time." He closed his eyes for a moment then opened them to meet Sheridan's. "The explosion happened over seven months ago. I don't remember the next two weeks; they kept me in a chemically-induced coma until friends and family could arrive and they thought I could deal with it. Or they could keep me from …" His voice faltered and he looked down at his hands. "My hands … they were pretty well shredded. They figured keeping me out would let them heal better. The next four weeks were …." He stopped abruptly.

When he spoke again, he sounded tired and his eyes looked old. "They were rough. Between the grief and the guilt and the rage … a mind healer helped me and Tally deal with the severing of the link Joshua had with both of us. I went back to work two weeks later." He looked back up, meeting Sheridan's eyes. "A deep complete scan was done before I could return to duty. I've had sessions with a mind healer and I meet with a psychologist at least once a week, down from at least four times a week six months ago. The nightmares have almost faded. Beyond that, I don't know what else I can tell you."

"Who's the psychologist?" Michael asked suddenly and Mick threw him a startled look.

"Gordon Witherspoon." He said after a moment.

Michael nodded slowly then, in response to Sheridan's inquiring look, explained. "He's a psychologist here as well. I see him a few times a month."

"Oh." Sheridan said, surprised for some reason and Michael gave him an amused look. After a moment, Sheridan turned back to Mick. "Anything else we should know about?" Mick gave him a puzzled look. "Alcohol? Drugs?"

Mick flicked a sudden understanding look at Michael. "No to both. I think the doctor can confirm that." He paused before adding in a low voice. "Not that I wasn't tempted." He stared down at his clasped hands, a muscle in his face working.

Michael shifted uncomfortably, reflecting that Mick was stronger then he could ever be. He suspected that, had something like that happened to him, he'd still be in a bottle with no signs of ever surfacing. Or dead. "If you think you need to talk to Dr. Witherspoon, we could probably work something out." He offered impulsively. "He's a good guy and he's very good at keeping his mouth shut." He caught the look Sheridan gave him and flushed slightly. "Or we can work something else out."

Mick smiled slightly, having caught the same look. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

Susan, who had been listening quietly, now spoke up. "You do realize that killing Valera isn't going to accomplish anything." Sheridan threw her a sharp look but she was studying Mick intently. The man had frozen in place, his face expressionless. "You do mean to kill him, don't you?"

A muscle twitched in his cheek and he slowly turned his head to look at her. "You sound just like the Ivanova of my reality. She was the only one with the guts to ask straight out."

"Good for her. And it doesn't answer the question."

Mick closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, they held a despair that startled her. "No, it doesn't. Because I don't know. And that scares me. It scares me worse than anything I've ever had to face before."

Sheridan felt himself relax, startled to realize how tense he'd become at Susan's question. He looked from Delenn to Michael then back at Mick. "So now we know where we stand." Mick looked back at him. "We want to help you but we can't let you roam. And not just because you look so much like Michael. I prefer not to put you in a position … put us in a position … where we'd have to stop you. We've set up a room to use as a command post. You'll stay there. Michael's gotten three of his people to help and we have some others we're going to talk to. You won't be able to leave the room and someone will be with you at all times."

To his relief, Mick accepted this with no protest, simply nodding.

"Lou will take you to the room and get started gathering the information needed concerning Valera and the smuggling." He hesitated, glancing at Delenn. "Of course you're probably going to end up being asked a lot of questions about your universe." The Minbari woman smiled but said nothing.

Mick shrugged. "Turnabout is fair play, Captain. I suspect I'll have a lot of questions about your universe."

Sheridan nodded. "There's one last thing. As I said, it would be best if you considered yourself on detached duty. What I need is your word that you will consider me your commanding officer and take orders from me."

It was obvious Mick hadn't expected that. He was silent for a long moment. "That's asking a lot, Captain." He finally said.

"I know. Unfortunately the circumstances we're in call for it. If we do end up under attack, I need to know that you'll follow my orders. No matter what." Sheridan's voice was firm, leaving no doubt that if Mick didn't agree; he would end up back in a cell.

Mick hesitated then rose, walking over to the window overlooking the Garden and staring out, his back to them as he thought. Sheridan glanced at Michael, who shrugged. If Mick was that much like Michael, it was possible he wouldn't agree. That the same innate paranoia that had kept Michael from trusting him when they first met would make him refuse. Of course, that would depend on how much his word meant to him.

Delenn startled them all by suddenly rising to her feet. She moved toward Mick, stopping a few feet away and waiting until he turned to face her. When she spoke, she did so in the language she had used earlier. He listened to her then raised his head, staring over her head and at the station emblem set into the wall. After a moment, he said something back in the same language and Sheridan found himself exchanging wry looks with his staff, feeling left out but trusting Delenn. The woman spoke again, her voice firm and Mick sighed, taking a last look out over the Garden before turning toward Sheridan, his eyes resolute.

"All right, Captain. You have my word. I'll consider you to be my commanding officer; I'll take your orders until my people get a nexus gate open again."

Feeling a stab of satisfaction, Sheridan rose to offer his hand. Mick took it in a firm grip. "Lou will escort you to the room." Michael was already on his way to the door, opening it and gesturing Lou inside. "And thank you."

Mick raised an eyebrow, laughter dancing in his eyes. "Don't thank me yet, Captain." He said dryly. "I don't think you've considered all the ramifications of having two of us under your command at the same time." With a chuckle, he followed Lou out the door.

Sheridan stared at the closed door for a long moment. "No, I hadn't but I am now. Damn it!" That brought laughter from the other three and he turned with a smile to Michael. "No offense but this ought to be interesting. Delenn ..."

"The language is Adrenato, the language of the Religious Caste of the Minbari." She said, anticipating his question. "And I was as startled as you to hear him speak it. And so very well!" She paused, looking sincerely at Sheridan. "He has chosen to trust me, Captain. And because of that, he trusts you. And I don't think it was easy for him."

"I could see that. We'll do our best not to break that trust."

"I will find some history books and take them over to him. That should help answer his questions."

"And you want to get the jump on asking him questions." Sheridan guessed and Delenn smiled innocently as she swept out the door, nodding a greeting to Stephan as he entered.

"Okay, what did I miss?" The doctor asked.

Sheridan glanced at Michael. "Did you tell him everything?"

"Just the bare bones. Not about …" Michael grimaced.

Sheridan recounted the rest of Mick's story. When he was done, Stephan looked grave.

"Well, that does explain the scar tissue on his hands. I was wondering what could have caused it."

"I didn't see any." Sheridan said, puzzled.

"His hands are well healed but you can see the damage under the skin. A couple of them ... I'm surprised he didn't bleed to death but from the sound of it there were people there helping him."

Sheridan couldn't help but wonder if those potentially fatal slashes were deliberate on Mick's part then banished that thought. "Did you find any evidence of drinking or drugs?"

Stephan was already shaking his head. "No. None. Well, barring the painkillers I'd given him." He looked around at the others. "So we're going to trust him?"

Sheridan pursed his lips in thought. "Everything he's done here ... he's gone out of his way not to harm anyone. He's helped. Stopped a mugging, gave Michael information on that plant. His weapons were non-lethal; he never even tried to go for that knife. Even when he had you on the ground, Michael. He's been honest with us about things I doubt most of us could talk about. I feel that he wants to help." He paused. "Delenn seems to think he is a man of his word and if that's true, he's handed me a hell of a lot of power over him."

"We could ask Talia to do a deep scan." Michael suggested but Sheridan was already shaking his head.

"I don't want to put her through that. It may be different realities but that would be too cruel. He's told us the truth so far. I think from now on, we have to work from mutual trust. We have the means to tell if he's telling the truth. He has no such means. We're holding all the cards. He has to just trust us."

"I honestly don't think I could do that, if our circumstances were reversed." Michael commented. All three of the others gave him a wry look. "What? Are you saying I'm paranoid or something?" He grinned at their expressions.

"Lou will be working with Mick at getting more information on Valera and the smuggling. Delenn is undoubtedly going to spend the afternoon asking him questions." Sheridan glanced at the time. "We all have work to do. I recommend we met over there at 1900 to catch up."

Michael nodded. "I'll tell Zack and Torque to meet us there."

#

Susan made her excuses and split from the others before returning to duty, heading instead toward Talia's quarters. Once there, she dithered for a moment, not sure she wanted to disturb her then finally rang the chime. The door opened a moment later and she stepped in to see a pale Talia sitting in her robe at the table, a cup of tea in front of her.

"Help yourself." She gestured toward the pot and Susan retrieved a cup, filling it before settling in the chair on the other side of the table. She took a sip before asking her question.

"Are you all right?"

"I will be. They aren't my memories and they don't have anything to do with me." She said the words as if she'd already said them a number of times and still didn't believe them. "You know, mostly I'm just mad at myself. I, ah, was so ... against the idea of me ... even an other reality me ... married to Michael that I overreached myself. I shouldn't have grabbed his memories like that."

"Would that be so bad? Married to Michael?" Then Susan added hurriedly before Talia could answer. "Thinking outside PsiCorp's genetic breeding program."

Talia flushed slightly.

"He's a good man. Honest, loyal. Well-built in more ways than one." Susan continued, grinning at the look the other woman gave her. "The officer gym locker rooms are male, female, and unisex and neither of us is very shy. Don't tell me you weren't ever tempted." Talia didn't answer and Susan paused, her cup halfway to her lips. "Or does PsiCorp frown on relationships with normals?"

"They don't encourage it." Talia admitted, not wanting to admit that the PsiCorps attitude toward mundanes was that reading their minds was bad enough, actually having sex with one was ... well, to put it kindly, unsatisfying compared to sex with another telepath. Which made her wonder why her other reality self would have married Michael's other reality self.

"I'd say you don't know what you're missing then."

Talia didn't answer, not wanting to admit that sometimes she did wonder. She banished those thoughts and smiled tentatively at Susan. "What are your plans for tonight?"

"Well, we'll be meeting with Mick to see what information he has. Try to figure out how to help him and get him back to his own reality." She studied the woman across the table, noting how pale she was and how her hands shook. "Would you care for some company tonight?"

Relief flooded Talia's eyes. "Yes please." She faltered and tears appeared in her eyes. "I can't get the image of that baby out of my head. Or Mick's reaction when he realized his son was dead." Her voice caught, once again hearing Mick's screams in her mind, the sheer agony of his grief tearing at her.

"I'll come over after the meeting." Susan rose, walking around the table to lightly kiss Talia's forehead. "See you then."

"Thanks."

* * *

I keep feeling as if I'm missing a scene here but I can't put my finger on what it is so I decided just to post this part. Undoubtedly the scene will come to me after I have posted a few more parts. Part 8 is twice as long as any of the previous parts and should go up over the weekend then we will really slow down.


	8. Chapter 8

The last thing any of them expected when they entered the quarters assigned to Mick was a party.

The three security officers looked guilty but Delenn and Mick just smiled. Four pizza boxes were on the table, along with soda bottles and bread sticks. Aware that Michael was watching him warily, waiting to see his reaction. Sheridan walked over to flip one of the boxes open, studying their contents.

"Okay. Where's the Hawaiian Pizza? I can smell Hawaiian Pizza. There had better be some left."

Mick's grin broadened and he tapped the box in front of him. Sheridan picked up a plate and flipped the box open to pull out a slice. The others joined him in getting food and sitting at the table.

"We thought some food was in order." Delenn said, gracefully catching a drip of cheese from her slice with her finger and returning it to the toppings. "This pizza is very unusual. Yet very tasty." She took a delicate bite. "We have been collating the information as we can, Captain." Delenn nodded toward Mick. "Our information on nexus gates is close to the same. They were originally created eons ago, by an ancient race and then scattered when that race vanished. They are occasionally found by beings who try to use them, usually with disastrous results. The main difference between our two realities concerning nexus gates is that Mick's people have found a way to utilize the gates." Delenn did not sound as if this was an accomplishment she approved of.

"If they're used correctly, they aren't a danger. And at this time, we only have one." Mick said in defense and Sheridan got the impression that the two of them had already discussed this. "And they're only used in situations like this."

"That does not make it right." Delenn said sternly.

"No, it doesn't." Mick agreed. "But we need a way to deal with situations like this; when others are using nexus gates illegally. Frankly few of us like it but we really don't have any other options. Unless, of course, we step back and wait for someone else to take care of it. And hope that they aren't going to use them for their own purposes." He offered her a basket of bread sticks.

"Point taken." Delenn took a bread stick. "But I still don't like it."

Mick chuckled. "In other words, we agree to disagree."

A smile flitted across Delenn's lips but she didn't answer.

Sheridan smiled as well, suspecting this was an issue that would keep both of them busy for some time but as long as they both kept a sense of humor about it, he wouldn't worry about it.

"You will find this interesting, Captain." Delenn delicately dipped the bread stick into a nearby container of dipping sauce. "Mick was raised on Narn."

"Narn?" Sheridan paused with a slice of pizza halfway to his mouth. After a moment, he lowered it, shooting a glance at Michael, who looked as startled as he did. "Well, that would explain the Blood Blade."

"How did that happen?" Susan asked.

Mick shrugged. "My father was one of the liaisons between Earth and Narn. So I was born there and raised there until I was about seventeen then me, G'Kar..."

"G'Kar!?" More than one voice said in varying degrees of astonishment. Mick blinked then looked at Delenn, who was smiling serenely.

"You're enjoying this." He accused her and she looked at him innocently. He scowled briefly. "Yes, G'Kar. My blood brother. At that time only through the Blood Blade ritual. Then again later," He reached up to trace one of the tendrils of flame on his face with unerring accuracy. "Through the FireSworn ritual."

"We spoke of many of the differences between our realities." Delenn said. "But I suspect we could talk for the full two weeks and never get all of them. They go too deeply. And he didn't finish the sentence. I believe it started me, G'Kar, and my Ferals ..."

Mick shot her a puzzled look. "Yes."

"What are Ferals?" Susan asked. She had put down her pizza and was studying the man intently, her expression suddenly cool.

"Ahhhh." Mick glanced at Delenn with a frown. "They're specialist warriors, genetically created from humans and various animal species maybe two hundred years ago. My father was this pack's Handler. When I left home, the pack elected to come with me." He paused at the looks on their faces. "What?"

"That kind of genetic engineering is illegal here." Susan said shortly.

Mick arched an eyebrow. "Was it two hundred years ago?"

Susan opened her mouth then closed it.

"No, it wasn't." Stephan said.

"I didn't think so. It is illegal now but then it was all the rage. The results are still around. What happened to the creations from genegineering here?"

"Well, ahhh ..." Susan looked at Stephan.

"They were destroyed." He said reluctantly.

"Well, they weren't in our reality." Mick reached for another slice of pizza, licking his fingers free of sauce. "So we had to do something with them. They make excellent soldiers."

"So they're what? Slaves?" Susan asked curtly.

Mick froze in mid-bite, the look on his face suggesting that had never occurred to him. After a moment, he set the slice down. "No, they're not." He said carefully, not looking away from Susan. "They're equal citizens with full voting rights, which they take advantage of religiously. They get paid very well, as much as I do in fact. Where the hell did that come from anyway?"

Susan blinked in surprise at the vehemence of the question. "The way you talk about them. I mean, Handlers?"

'The Ferals chose that title. It could just as easily be Master or Captain or Lord. The pack chooses who leads them. If they didn't like how I led, they wouldn't follow my orders. More then one person has lost their place when the pack ousted them as their Handler."

"But ... _my _Ferals?" Susan pressed.

"_My_ Ferals?" He paused, studying her intently; his lips pursed in thought then he grinned suddenly. "We have a species in our reality that you apparently don't have in yours or at least I haven't seen any. We call them Taz. The species is called Taz, the individuals are called Taz because they don't give us their names. We couldn't pronounce their names anyway and we can't tell them apart. Plus they have an annoying tendency to switch jobs, positions at the drop of a hat. They do it, I think, to drive us insane."

He pushed his plate back and rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward. "I have a Taz that works for me. I have no idea, day to day, rather it is the same Taz. She shows up wearing the security bandanna that says she's working for me. Doesn't really matter, they are all excellent at whatever job they may be doing. But I refer to her as my Taz. She doesn't belong to me in any way, shape, or form. It's just a way of identifying them. I've received numerous calls telling me that the Minbari's Taz is up something. Or C&C's Taz is doing this. Or the monks' Taz is doing that. Or the ever infamous get the hell down here, your Taz is about to start a riot without you." He paused, pointing a finger at a now-smiling Susan. "That actually did happen."

"Did you go down and join in?"

"Not exactly on purpose. Let's just say that when it was over, I ended up in MedLab for two days. That damned Taz didn't even have a scratch. Of course the minute the riot started, she was up in the rafters. But the point is I don't mean it as possession. The Taz do the same thing. They refer to the beings they work with as theirs. I know that the Taz who work for me refer to me as their human. Or in G'Kar's case, as their Narn. Hell, they even refer to the Ferals as their Ferals."

"So these Ferals." Michael spoke up. "That's what you meant when you said Jack was ..." He paused, finding himself unable to finish the sentence. Mick looked at him for a long moment, obviously pondering what to say.

"Ferals have very sharp teeth and very sharp claws and they are very protective of their Handlers. A few of them had followed me that day. I'm not sure how it happened in your universe but in mine, I had found evidence that Earth Force One had been sabotaged." Michael nodded confirmation and Mick continued. "I was on my way up to report to the station's High Commander when I got waylaid by some of the conspirators. I had my spetsdods ready, could've taken them, thought I had backup. Only my backup stabbed me in the back, literally. I went down and he was getting ready to cut my throat when the Ferals hit him. When they were through, there wasn't much left of him or the three other men."

Susan lowered the slice of pizza she'd been about to take a bite of, suddenly feeling slightly nauseous.

Sheridan cleared his throat. "G'Kar isn't the Narn ambassador?" He asked in an attempt to change the subject.

Mick gave him a grim smile. "That was suggested, yes but the Centauri protested. They insisted that it would have been a conflict of interest, which it would have been. So instead he came in as High Warrior with me. Which thrilled the Centauri all to pieces."

"So you share the position?" Sheridan asked slowly.

"Yeah. It's what we're trained to do."

"Our realities are, in some ways, very different." Delenn commented and Sheridan got the impression that she had already heard much of this. "I believe the training Mick speaks of is the FireSworn training, where the tattoos come from." Mick nodded. "If I recall correctly, the FireSworn specialize in training fighting pairs then once the pair is trained, they train the pairs together, gradually training them as a complete unit."

"Yeah. These days though, we tend to work just as pairs, usually sharing positions. We've been working together for over twenty years. Between that and the Feral pack, we can pretty much write our own ticket just about anywhere."

"So why are you working at the ... what is it called? The Sacred Circle station?" Sheridan asked.

Delenn made a sound suspiciously like a laugh and Mick looked at her with narrowed eyes. "You _are_ enjoying this."

"I take it you two have talked a great deal." Michael commented then he glanced suspiciously at Lou, who had a grin on his face as he stared studiously at his plate.

"Yes, we have." Then she said something in Minbari. Mick answered in the same language, cutting off abruptly in mid-word and glaring at her.

"Damn it! Stop doing that!" He said in exasperation.

Lou sounded like he was choking and Michael was glaring at him like he was hoping the man really was.

"Okay, what's the joke?" Sheridan demanded.

Delenn folded her hands and looked at him, eyes dancing with merriment. "One reason Mick works at the station is because he has a Minbari daughter." She smiled at their surprised looks. "The reason I steered the conversation the way I did is so that you'd understand the story better, when he tells it."

"I've already told it." Mick pointed out, picking sausage off a slice of pizza.

"It will also explain why his reality had no war between Humans and the Minbari." She said reasonably, looking sidelong at Mick.

Mick sighed. "You are way too much like the Delenn of my universe." She smiled at him serenely. "Damn it." He said in exasperation, shoving a basket at her. "Here, have a piece of garlic bread. Modesty loves garlic bread."

"Modesty?" Michael watched almost regretfully as Delenn took the last slice.

"Yeah. My daughter. As near as I could tell, her birth name was Mastei and I have a distant ancestor named Modesty. It seemed appropriate."

"You are going to tell the story." Susan made it more statement then question and he sighed.

"Okay, okay. I'll tell it. Again." He paused, running his hands over his short hair then resting them on the table, looking up and around the table. "It started about twelve years back. I was dutied to the _Dawson's Christian_, working anti-piracy in the Minar region when we got something we assumed was a distress signal. We headed out that way, saw this ship that none of us had ever seen before. Graceful thing, Dawson fell in love. We found out later it was a Minbari ship. At that time, well, it was just a ship under attack by a pack of pirates. We took out one of the attacking ships right off then Dawson sent me over to the ship with my crew to take care of any borders. We had to cut our way in. Never a happy prospect since it involved locking our shuttle to the other ship, making us easy targets but we managed. The Taz had an entrance ready in record time and we piled onto the other ship. Once there, we split up. Me, G'Kar, and a couple Ferals headed down one corridor."

He reached for a bread stick, absently twisting it in his fingers. "It was an unusual ship, one none of us had ever seen before but the layout seemed fairly comparable to the _Christian_. There was atmosphere, though of course we didn't chance taken off our helmets, and gravity. We could see damage to the walls from strong firepower and then a couple bodies. None of us recognized the species … yeah, later we found out they were Minbari … but we didn't know that then. We hadn't had contact with them at all before this." His face tightened briefly with remembered grief. "The Ferals met with the pirates first. They took us by surprise and managed to kill Joseph but Benjamin made a bloody mess out of them, with some help from us."

"Benjamin was wounded so we patched him up as best we could and sent him back to the shuttle with Joseph's body before moving on. We were finding more dead pirates then dead aliens now and we figured this led to the control center. Turned out we were wrong about that. We ended up at the end of a corridor with two dead pirates, five dead aliens, and one live alien. She had a weapon aimed directly at us. We both let our weapons drop; we didn't want to appear a threat. This apparently confused her enough that she didn't just shoot right away. We were hoping she'd realize we weren't part of the pirate band; if nothing else our spacesuits were different."

"It surprised the hell out of me when she fired a shot but it went between us and into a pirate that had been preparing to shoot us both. It was a quick nasty fire fight but we won. Four more dead pirates. Only when we turned back toward the alien, we found that she had taken a blast from one of the pirate guns. But she was still alive. G'Kar stood guard while I tried to staunch the bleeding, all the while yelling at Franklin to haul his med team over here."

"Ahhhh ... Franklin?" Stephan said, raising his eyebrow inquiringly.

"I guess I should have mentioned that. Yeah, the head of the medical personnel on the _Dawson's Christian_ was Stephen Franklin. Anyway, I got the wound wrapped up. It wasn't pretty but it did the job. Meanwhile I was getting reports from the others. There was one hold out of pirates in a far area of the ship but the rest of the ship was clean. No other survivors could be found. Outside a second pirate ship had been destroyed and the last was running away. I directed the majority of others to take care of that last hold out and called a couple Ferals to come help protect here."

"That's when the alien pressed something into my hand and pointed toward a door behind her. I reached for my gun but she grabbed it, wouldn't let me draw it then pointed again. I finally left it in the holster and went over to check the door. That something she had given me was a flat piece of metal, obviously a key. Once I figured out how to work it, the door slid open. It was living quarters, simply furnished but very functional, reminded me a bit of some Japanese homes I'd seen. There was something here she and the others had died protecting and it didn't take me long to find her. A solemn-eyed child hiding behind the furniture. She didn't have the bone headdress the adults had but she was obviously of the same species."

He paused, reaching for his glass and taking a drink before continuing. "So I contacted Franklin, asking him if the atmosphere here was safe for us to breathe. He thought so but … I didn't bother listening to the rest. I took a chance and removed my helmet, hoping that there were more similarities then differences between our species. She didn't fight when I picked her up, except to pull my hair."

"Ohhhh, the good old days." Michael grinned as laughter erupted around the table.

Mike chuckled. "Yeah, I remember them fondly. Anyway, she didn't resist and I took her into the other room. The med team was already there and Franklin gave me several choice words about taking off my helmet. I took the baby over to, well, I assumed she was her mother. She touched the child and said Mastei and then looked at me and said something I didn't understand at the time. Later, I realize that what she said was take care of my daughter. All I could do was tell her that I would take care of the child; promised her she'd be safe."

He paused, eyes remote as he thought back on that scene. "We left the ship then. Since I'd taken off my helmet, I ended up in quarantine with the kid until medical could make sure there wasn't anything dangerous in the alien atmosphere. Unfortunately her mother died shortly after we returned to the ship. We spent quarantine getting to know each other. Spent a lot of time trying to figure out what she could eat ... garlic bread did the trick. And some soft caramel corn that Jaster makes. God, she pigged out on that! Finally had to tell Jaster not to send anymore or she was going to get sick. We were in quarantine for four weeks, which was a good thing on all sides. In fact … He paused suddenly.

"What?" Susan asked sharply.

"Well, I found out later that we were in quarantine two weeks longer then needed. Dawson authorized it. When we finally got out ... hell, I was barely through the door ... he handed me a pen and a piece of paper and told me to sign it now. Normally I'd be a little leery of it but G'Kar was right there backing him up so I did. They were adoption papers, giving her the name I'd been using for the girl, Modesty. Apparently while we were in quarantine, there was this entire mess about her. We had tried to contact the Minbari but they ignored us or maybe they didn't get our messages. Whatever the reason, we never heard from them. So all of sudden, Modesty's the hot potato in political circles."

"How so?" Sheridan asked.

"I didn't find any of this out for several hours after leaving quarantine; they hadn't been giving me information during it and now I knew why. There was the scientific community wanting to study her and then there were the ones who just knew what was right for everyone who wanted her put in a good home and ... well. It was a mess.

"So you thought the best thing was to raise her yourself. " Susan said, her voice doubtful.

Mick arched an eyebrow at her. "I made a promise and come hell or high water I meant to keep it."

"But surely there was a family to take her." Susan persisted and Mick looked at her in surprise.

"I think Susan's thinking of the fact that I'm a recovering alcoholic." Michael spoke up.

Mick looked at him for a long moment then back at Susan. "My family is prone to alcoholism in a hell of a big way but I've never been tempted. For one thing, the alcohol on Narn is too dangerous for humans to drink safely and Pop made sure that Earth alcohol was never in the house … except small amounts for cooking, of course … and by the time I left the planet, I was, I hope, old enough and smart enough to stay away from it. And if I wasn't, G'Kar was right there ready to pound me into paste if I ever even thought of taking a drink."

Michael laughed. "Now, that's a 12-step program I could have used."

"It does work. Anyway ... where was I?"

"Hot potato among the political circles." Delenn reminded him.

"Ahhh, thank you. Dawson pushed the adoption through under the radar, so to speak. By the time anyone figured it out, it was legal and nothing short of a proclamation from God could sever it. So next they started screaming about the fact I was on a fighting ship. Well, Stephan had been pushing for a transfer to an Arbitrator ship … a peace keeping ship …so Dawson managed to attach a transfer for me, G'Kar, and the Ferals to it as well. We ended up on the _Masada_." He grinned at the looks on their faces. "And that is where I first met John Sheridan. He was Commander of the _Masada_."

"Not much to say about the next six years. G'Kar and I ended up First Warrior … Chief of Security for the _Masada_. Stephan managed to get enough information on the Minbari that we weren't too surprised when the bone headdress started to emerge or that she seemed to grow slower then a human child. She stayed a remarkably serious child though she did have her moments. Then …" He stopped abruptly, frowning.

"You did the same thing when telling me the story." Delenn commented. "You didn't explain then."

Mick shook his head. "I'm not now either. We don't have any proof that incident had anything to do with what happened later." He glanced around the table. "We were patrolling the area around Proxima 17 when the message came for the _Masada_ to return to Earth. It was kept pretty hushed up as to why. When we got there, we were informed that there was a Minbari fleet on our borders. They'd heard about Modesty. Actually, I don't know what they heard but it couldn't have been good. They were demanding her back. They refused to listen to any explanation, they just wanted her. Now. And if they didn't get her, they would attack."

"I was summoned down to Earth to a special committee created to deal with this situation. I left Modesty with G'Kar and went down. The Commander came down as well but they wouldn't let him in. Just me. That's when the shit hit the fan. You see, Modesty is my daughter by law. They couldn't just take her away. They couldn't sever the relationship. It was sworn and pact and nothing could break it so they were trying to get me to repudiate her. I refused, of course. She is my daughter, after all. She'd lived with me for most of her life, among humans that long. I wasn't about to turn her over complete unknowns, even if they were her people. It was getting hot and heavy in that room. Half of them were backing up Clark ..."

"Clark?" Sheridan said, startled.

"Yep. Same guy. He wanted Modesty taken away and given over. The other half was backing me. The President was trying her best to keep order. I had no idea which way she was going to jump. I never paid much attention to Earth politics. After hours of this the doors to the room broke open. Literally. G'Kar came storming in, pissed as hell. The guards were standing back and looking scared, rightly so, until Clark started yelling at them to arrest G'Kar. At that point they closed the doors firmly and went to hide.

"Huh? Hide?" Susan asked and Mick smiled.

"G'Kar and I are FireSworn Brothers. They had no right to keep him out and certainly none to arrest him. At that point the President told Clark to calm down or get out. Before she could say anything to G'Kar, he informed her and everyone there that they had no right to demand anything of me. I was a citizen of Narn as well as of Earth and as my daughter; Modesty was a Narn citizen as well. Clark went ballistic then but G'Kar kept talking. He informed them that I didn't know where Modesty was and neither did he. She was no longer on the ship and no one there knew where she was."

"That brought the house down good and proper. I thought we were both going to end up in triple locked cells somewhere near the core of the planet. Clark was screaming for the arrest of everyone on the _Masada_ and another assh ... senator was calling for our heads. It was getting more hysterical by the moment. If it weren't so damn serious, it would have been funny. But I had an idea. I told the President that I wanted to talk to the Minbari. Send me out there and let me met with them. G'Kar thought I was nuts but it was the most reasonable solution. If I could convince them that Modesty was, in all things, my daughter ... well, it was a hope. It was alarming how quickly Clark's people agreed. I guess they figured if I got killed, they have a chance to grab Modesty and turn her over. I mean, how long could a Minbari girl be kept hidden?"

Mick paused, absently rapping the bread stick he held on the table. "G'Kar was mad as hell and so was the Commander, though I think he ... that they both ... understood. The President herself gave the orders and the _Masada_ headed out to meet the Minbari fleet. When we reached them, I went out alone in an unarmed StarFury. They weren't talking to our ships any longer after their last demand for Modesty's return but I sent them a message. I got as far as telling them that I was Modesty's ... Mastei's ... father then everything went totally black. When I came to ... When I came to, I was tied to some kind of metal frame in a circle of light. There were people there but I could only see nine ..."

"The Grey Consul." Delenn remarked.

"Yeah, I found that out later. There were others back in darkness. I don't know how long I was there. Hours, days. They didn't ask questions. They just made demands. I tried to explain that she was my daughter but every time I tried, one of them would hit me. He was good at it too. Every blow hurt like hell and many broke a bone. That device I was strapped to didn't help either. It was some kind of device that could amplify pain. After ... well, I don't know how long it was but I was pretty much ready just to die. Between the machine and the broken bones, I was surprised I wasn't already dead."

Despite having heard all this before, Delenn looked uncomfortable. Mick paused to smile at her briefly before continuing. "Then there was this disturbance. A fight. A major one in the darkness. I didn't know what to expect but it sure as hell wasn't G'Kar coming into the light with about a dozen Minbari trying to drag him down. I'm surprised they didn't just kill him. It took almost two dozen of them to get him down and bound. He's yelling at them and I'm yelling too, fighting against my bonds so hard that I actually broke one wrist in three places. I didn't notice until I stopped fighting and was hanging again. Damn, that hurt like hell. " He absently rubbed at his right wrist.

"I don't know how he got on the ship; he never told me. All I knew was that both of us were going to die because the Minbari were ... excuse the expression ... too bone-headed to accept that a member of one species could care about another and it pissed me off. I just started talking. To this day, I don't remember what I said or how many blows I took while saying it. By that time, my ribs were pretty much a lost cause. I figured it wouldn't take too many more blows before something vital was ruptured or punctured. Then …" He paused, face tight with remembered pain, hand still rubbing at his wrist.

For a moment, Delenn looked sorry she had asked him to retell the story but before she could say anything he continued. "Then the Minbari who was doing the hitting went over to G'Kar. I was afraid he meant to hurt him but he did something worse. He pulled the Blood Blade from G'Kar's boot." He glanced up. "Do you know what a Blood Blade is?"

"I was told its part of a Narn blood brother ritual." Sheridan replied.

"Yeah. The knives are literally created from the blood of the people involved. In this case, G'Kar's and mine. I'd left mine back on the _Masada_ but G'Kar had brought his. See, a Narn blade can't be sheathed until it's been blooded and that bastard meant to use my blood to do it. That was the cruelest thing he could ever do and I think he knew it too. Even if G'Kar did survive, he wouldn't have survived long."

"Why?" Susan asked but Sheridan who answered.

"Because he would have killed himself." Ignoring the shocked looks from his staff, he caught Mick's eyes. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"Honor is a cruel thing sometimes." There was no humor in Mick's smile. "I wasn't about to give up but I couldn't think of a damn thing to do or say. It was remarkable how quiet it was. I couldn't see the Minbari's face; he was wearing a hooded cloak. All of the nine were. But I knew what he meant to do with that knife. Then one of the other Minbari ... a much shorter one ... moved in front of him and held out her hand for the knife. They talked ... they knew English, they spoke it to me but now they spoke in Minbari. Whatever she said, he gave her the knife. For some reason, he seemed to think she had more right to kill me. He gave her the knife. To this day I wonder ..." He was staring down at the table but Sheridan suspected he wasn't seeing it. "She came over to stand in front of me. I couldn't see her face, her eyes. Just that damn hood and that knife. Blood Blades are very sharp; at least I knew that if she struck true, I'd be dead very quickly." He looked up, his face somber. "Then she raised that knife and cut my bonds."

"I hit the ground hard ... turned out a bone in my foot was broken as well ... but at that point I didn't care. I hauled myself upright, how I have no idea. I could hear arguing all around us and that first Minbari was standing behind her, talking to her rather fiercely but she was … she was offering me the knife, hilt-first. I did mention that a Narn blade can't be sheathed without being bloodied didn't I? Well, I took the knife and as she drew her hand away, she deliberately ran her hand on the blade, leaving behind the required blood before she stepped back."

"Somehow I made it over to G'Kar. At first I thought the other Minbari were going to stop me but she ordered them away. I cut him loose and he took the knife, used the robe of a nearby Minbari to clean the blade ... boy, did that piss him off ... and sheathed it. Then we waited while the nine argued. No choice. Even if there was a place to go, I couldn't run. Don't ask how long it was ... by that time I was a half a step away from total shock ... but then the small Minbari came toward us. I got to my feet ... foot ... with G'Kar's help. I wasn't about to face any of them on my knees. She stopped in front of us and pulled back her hood. I'll never forget what she said." His eyes darted toward Delenn and he smiled slightly. "'Mr. Garibaldi, my name is Delenn and I would like very much to meet your daughter.'."

"I wish I could say that I said something appropriate back but by that time I was running on sheer stubbornness and adrenaline and I'd run out of both. I passed out cold. When I woke up, I was in the _Masada_'s Medlab and we were heading for Earth. Delenn and two other Minbari ... including the one who wanted so badly to kill me ... were with us; to meet Modesty and to judge for themselves how she was being treated. Both G'Kar and I were confined to Medlab until we reached Earth ... he'd been hurt worse then he'd been letting on and the Commander had given him a choice of staying in Medlab for as long as the doc said or in the brig for as long as he said. Considering the Commander's mood, G'Kar wisely chose the Medlab. Besides, it gave him a chance to completely review my ancestry with appropriate substitutions. If nothing else, we amused the Medlab personnel."

He reached for his glass, frowning when he saw it was empty. Zack grabbed the nearest soda bottle and filled his glass. "Thanks." He took a drink and held the glass as he continued. "It didn't take them long to realize that Modesty was now, uniquely, my daughter. Even the most stubborn of them could see that it wasn't in her best interest to separate us but they did want her to know Minbari ways. I had no problem with that. About that time, the station was being built so we were pushed forward to be the High Warrior. Makes it easier for Modesty to interact with Minbari. And that's pretty much it."

"And your suspicions about what started all this?" Sheridan asked.

"Are just that, Captain. Suspicions. The Minbari refuse to say anything about it. As Delenn put it 'We've averted one war. We won't be party to starting another'."

"Wise words." Delenn agreed and Mick smiled at her. It was obvious that, despite his harsh treatment at the hands of the Minbari, he held no ill feelings toward them.

"I'm not asking you to write it down or set it in stone." Sheridan said. "I'm asking for your thoughts about it. That's all."

Mick hesitated, setting down the glass. "Well, we're fairly certain that the Centauri were behind it. They pretty much hate our guts for helping the Narn drive them off of Narn and … I take it that didn't happen here." He finished at the looks on their faces.

"No, it didn't."

"Well. I know that the Centauri knew about Modesty. I've no doubt they'd be happy to cause us trouble. And I can't think of any other reason why the Minbari wouldn't tell us who passed the information on to them and in such a bad light."

"A question I meant to ask you." Delenn spoke up suddenly. "Who was the Minbari who first took the knife?"

"Neroon."

"Ahhhh. He wasn't a member of the Grey Council then here." Delenn paused, trying to rethink that sentence then giving up.

"Is he as stubborn there as he is here?" Sheridan wondered and Mick threw him an amused look.

"He was. After a couple months of total attitude … all right, I admit it. Attitude from both of us … we had it out in the gym. I won by virtue of staying off the ground the longest." He grinned at their expressions. "When we got finished pounding each other, he was flat out, face down on the ground. I was on my knees, mainly because I hadn't fallen over yet. They hauled us off to Medlab for five days. Neither of us could move for pretty much the whole of those days either. Delenn would sweep in every few hours to give us That Look. " He flicked a grin at Sheridan. "You know the look I mean?"

Sheridan grinned back. "You mean that look?" He gestured at Susan.

Mick looked. "Yep, that's the look." He glanced at Torque and Delenn. "And so are those. The one that females of every species acquire when the males are acting stupid. By the third time she swept in, Modesty was with her. She was too young for That Look but she had her very own 'Daddy's been stupid again' look, to which she added a new 'Uncle Neroon's been stupid too' look." He began to toss trash in an empty pizza box. "I'm not going to say we ended up friends but we did reach an understanding."

Sheridan shook his head. Well, their histories were different. No war, no Dark Star, no Starkiller. Tossing the last of the trash into a nearby box, he leaned back as Torque and Zack gathered up the boxes and shoved them down the disposal. "So what have we concerning the smuggling?" He turned the discussion toward business.

Mick reached down and picked up a bag, setting it on the table. Reaching in, he took out a chunk of ornately carved ivory. "Definitely Rathorn ivory. I recognize the carvings. Torque took a look and we've established that you don't have Rathorns in this reality so … Rathorns are sentient beings, Captain. Their ivory is their wealth. These are something I definitely want to return to them." His look toward the captain held a challenge.

"Anything we find that we can establish comes from your reality, we'll send back." Sheridan promised.

Mick nodded, replacing the ivory into the bag.

"Part of the problem is that a number of items could just as easily come from this reality." Torque spoke up. "But we have several items that could have come from Mick's reality."

"And Valera?" Sheridan asked, watching Mick from out of the corner of his eye. The other man's expression didn't change but it was obvious he was listening closely.

Michael glanced at Mick before speaking, obviously wondering how much to say. "We have a description and specifics for the Valera from Mick's reality." He said carefully. "And Torque is doing a search for the Valera of ours." He pulled an identikit from his pocket and turned it in his hands. "I've put out a BOLO on him. If he's on this station, someone will have seen him. We should have more news tomorrow." He replaced the identikit in his pocket. "He isn't the one selling the stuff. If he is the one behind this then he's using people from here to do his dirty work."

"Or he brought over people to work with him." Mick suggested.

Michael groaned. "Great. Even if we do find people from your reality, how are we going to tell them apart from the people here?" He glanced at Mick and frowned at the expression on the other man's face. "What?" He demanded.

"If I was Valera, I'd bring my own people over while eliminating the counterparts here, if they're on the station." Mick said quietly. "So there wouldn't be any confusion."

Michael suppressed a shudder. "Maybe. But that still doesn't enable us to make sure of who is who."

"No, it doesn't." Mick sounded tired and Michael looked at him closely, seeing the exhaustion in his eyes. Considering the last couple of days ... He glanced at Stephan, who was already giving Sheridan a pointed look. Sheridan caught it and nodded.

"What about that ... Kosh, was it?" Mick asked suddenly. "Did you find out why he tried to get into my mind?"

Sheridan started, exchanging a look with Delenn. "Unfortunately he'd already left the station before I could speak to him."

Mick rubbed at his upper lip. "You think he knows I'm from another reality?"

"It is possible." Delenn agreed.

"Circles." Mick muttered, not noticing the looks everyone gave him. He reached up to rub at his eyes, his jaw clenching in a manner that suggested a stifled yawn.

"I think it's time we packed it up for the night." Sheridan said firmly. "We can talk more after some sleep."

Mick looked like he wanted to argue on principle but this time he couldn't hide the yawn. "Damn." He muttered. Susan almost asked him when he'd last gotten a good night's sleep but then she remembered his son and snapped her mouth shut. As they rose to go, Mick suddenly reached out and grabbed Michael's wrist. "When that Kosh spoke, he said a word. Circles. What else did you hear?"

Michael looked startled. "Just that word. Circles." His eyes narrowed. "Why? What did you hear?"

Mick frowned, letting his hand drop. "So he didn't say it out loud. He put it into my head. Or maybe drew it from my memories." He reached up to rub at his temple. "Circles both in Light and Dark … what?" He demanded at the look on the others' faces.

"What does that mean?" Delenn asked quietly.

Mick hesitated before answering slowly. "It's from an old song about the ancient battle between Light and Dark." Then he half-sang, half-chanted. "Ways of Old to Guide and Guard, Paths to Bring and Send, Circles both in Light and Dark, From Starting until End'." He shrugged. "I just assumed he was referring to me coming from another reality." He saw the confusion on their faces. "That song is sometimes used as a focus when opening nexus gates."

"Do you happen to know the whole song?" Delenn asked.

"I do. Bring a guitar over tomorrow and I'll play it for you." Then, seeing Michael's surprised look, he added. "I take it you don't play." Mick's sudden grin was mischievous. "Believe it or not, G'Kar plays too. Better then me, in fact."

That brought a stunned silence.

"He does? Really?" Susan finally asked and Mick nodded. "Okay, my world's just officially turned upside down. I think I need to go have a lie down." She turned toward the door. "A tall drink and a lie down."

Michael shook off his surprise and looked at the three security officers. "Who … Lou? Good. We'll see you in the morning." He followed the others out the door, wishing he could indulge in a tall drink himself.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning, an hour before her shift started, Susan Ivanova walked down the corridor toward the guest quarters, balancing a cup carrier in one hand. The cups in the carrier were from Fresh Aire but the contents of the cups weren't. She was feeling exceptionally jovial today, mainly because she had real coffee and she was in the mood to share it. Cautiously of course.

She used her identicard to open the door into the guest room and stepped in to see Lou sitting on the sofa-bed, pulling on his boots.

"Good morning, Mr. Welch."

"Commander." He nodded toward the bathroom. "Mick's getting dressed. Thanks." He took the cup she offered him and took a sip then pulled back abruptly, looking at the cup as if it had bitten him. "Is this ..."

"It is. And if you tell anyone where you got it, I will pull your arms off."

"Yes, ma'am." He said fervently, cradling the cup in his hands as if it were liquid gold. Which, on the station, it was.

Susan looked over at the table, surprised to see it now covered with books and notepads. She glanced back at Lou, who grinned sheepishly.

"Neither of us could sleep right off so we started comparing our histories. It's kind of hard to know what to say to Mick sometimes; our realities are so different in some ways." He grimaced at the look she gave him. "We were going over current events and ... well, hearing that Narn had been bombarded by mass drivers kind of upset him."

Susan paused. "Damn. I never thought of that."

"Yeah. He knew something had happened but hadn't really dug into it. I mean it's not his home, his version of Narn but I... well, I understand him being upset about it."

Susan thought about it and nodded. "Listen, why don't you go get some breakfast? I'll stay for awhile."

"Sure. Want me to bring you back anything?"

"I ate but I assume Mick hasn't? Bring him back something."

"Yes, ma'am."

Once Lou was gone, Susan walked over to the table, taking the cups from the carrier and setting them on the table, carefully avoiding the books and papers scattered around. Tossing the carrier onto a nearby chair, she looked over the material. There were a number of history books there, one open and propped up by three other books. A pad of paper was shoved to one side, notes written neatly on it. Sheets of paper were inserted into the book and a glance at a couple showed her a left-handed scrawl. So Mick had been the one the making notes.

"Let me guess." Mick's voice came from behind her and she turned to see the man leaning against the wall. He was dressed in jeans and a muscle shirt, one that allowed his tattoos to be seen easily. "A little corner of the Garden, shaded by sunflowers and ..."

"Well." Susan offered him a cup. "Nice to know some things are exactly the same on our stations. Tell, me, did you ever blackmail the Ivanova of your reality by threatening to tear up those coffee plants, which of course don't exist?"

"Who, me?" Mick took the coffee, popping off the top and blissfully breathing in the aroma before looking up at her with an innocent look on his face. "Of course not. Never would ever cross my mind."

"Yeah, right." Susan sat down, reaching for her own cup. "Lou's bringing back some breakfast." Susan leaned back in the chair, sipping her coffee as she reached for the notepad, scanning the handwritten notes. "Okay, these are written in Narn."

Mick smiled a bit sadly and she knew he was thinking of this reality's Narn. "Sorry about that. Old habits die hard. Lou pointed it out before we got too far. The rest of the notes are in English."

Susan looked at him thoughtfully. "What was it like, growing up on Narn?"

"What was it like, growing up on Earth?" Mick countered and she smiled.

"Touche." She found the notes in English and began to scan them.

"We only covered maybe the last one hundred years. Figured that would be a good start. Not to mention that history was never my strong point."

"So you don't have Vorlons in your reality?"

"Not to my knowledge, no."

"And if you don't have Vorlons then you don't have Shadows."

"What?"

"Never mind. I'm just wondering if it's possible to move to your reality."

Mick chuckled, cradling the cup in his hands. "It's not a perfect universe, not even close. We have our problems … a number of Minbari are still unhappy over Modesty staying with me and it's causing stress there. The Centauri are planning something." He paused and she saw his lips thin in anger.

"Not your reality, Mick." She reminded him quietly.

"No, it's not. But it still hurts." He rubbed at his face. "Anyway, whatever they're planning it can't be good. We just lost an entire species to some disease …"

"The Markab?"

"Yeah. An entire species wiped out, mainly through ignorance. Somehow they deserved to be wiped out and supposedly intelligent beings actually believed that. I was amazed that there were some Minbari who believed it. Not Delenn though."

"She went in with them, she and Lennier, to care for them in the isolation chamber." Susan said, remembering.

Mick smiled slightly, saluting her with the coffee cup. "Nice to know some things are the same in both of our universes."

#

Michael turned one of the spetsdods over in his hands, trying to figure out how it worked. It seemed to be a remarkably simple weapon. After making sure the cartridge had been pulled, he slipped it on, strapping it tight. As he straightened his fingers, the barrel extended.

"Thinking of adding a new weapon to your resume?" John Sheridan stepped into the office.

Michael looked at him with a faint smile. "Wondering how they worked. I checked through our history. No weapon like this that I could find." He unstrapped the weapon and pulled it off. "Kind of wondering if he'd be willing to show me how it works."

"Could ask."

"I think I might." He set it on his desk then glanced up at Sheridan with a frown. "We got more information about Valera. Our Valera. James T Valera." Turning, he brought up a screen showing a clean-shaven man with short brown hair and blue eyes. "He's an honest businessman on Mars. Wife, three kids. Hasn't left the planet in three years. But! He has been seen on the station over the last three months. Except ..." Michael brought up another screen, by all appearances of the same man. "James P Valera. Just enough differences to keep from setting off alarms. Has to be a fake ID."

"Not his ID from his own universe?"

"No. Their ID system is different then ours. So someone faked him up some ID. We're checking into it."

"Where is he now?" Sheridan asked.

"No idea. He's paid up on a room for another two months. I've got an alert on it so when the door opens, we'll know it. But I have a nasty suspicion that he's Downbelow. I mean, it's kind of an open rumor about my double. He may have heard it and figured it out."

"So he's hiding. So what's he going to do next?"

"My guess. Get off the station. There's no record of him leaving yet and I have BOLOs out all over the place for him so he can't leave now. Unless ..." Michael frowned. "He tries to go back to his own reality. He must have a schedule for opening the nexus gate."

"They can't open it where they had it before. Mick's people know about it now." Sheridan paused. "I wonder when he last came over, if he's here." He met Michael's eyes. "I wonder if Mick knows."

"I'll ask him." Michael set the spetsdod back into the drawer and started to close it, hesitating at the sight of the mail shirt. "Think we can give him back the shirt and knife?"

"I was wondering the same thing. The shirt shouldn't be a problem. The knife ... I'm still leery about that." He sank into the guest chair. "Though I think, honestly, that he wouldn't hurt any of our people."

"If we're basing this on mutual trust ..." Michael wheedled.

Sheridan threw him a sharp look then sighed. "Yeah. That's true." He wavered then shrugged. "All right. Return both of them to him. But stress that it would be best if he didn't wear either of them. He won't need them."

"Right." Michael scooped up the knife and shirt and set them into a bag. "Are you heading over there?"

"I think so, yeah. Just passing through, though, on my way to yet another crisis." The two men walked from the security offices, nodding to a mixed group of Narn and human security officers entering the area. "How are the Narns working out?"

"Great. Crimes gone down and they've managed to remain remarkably civil even to the Centauri. And speaking of Narns."

"Captain! Mr. Garibaldi!" G'Kar stalked toward them, giving the impression of barely restrained fury. In reality, he was quite jovial and, much to Sheridan's astonishment, more relaxed then he had been when they first met. "Just the people I wanted to speak to."

"Well, we are on our way to …" Sheridan started.

"Did you know," G'Kar ran over his words firmly. "That Narn Blood Blades have the names of the owners engraved on them."

Sheridan stopped abruptly. "Ahhhh, no I didn't."

"Well, imagine my surprise when I read the names on this blade." He held up the data crystal Sheridan had given him the previous day. "At first I thought it to be an elaborate joke but then I heard from my Narns about Mr. Garibaldi's mysterious double. At which point I put 2 and 2 together. For some reason, I came up with 3 but that's beside the point."

Michael choked back inappropriate laughter and Sheridan glared at him. "G'Kar …"

"We have legends of parallel universe, Captain, just as your people do. That is where this mysterious person is from, isn't it?"

Sheridan glanced at Michael, interpreting the look in his eyes as a plea to tell G'Kar. He knew very well that the security chief thought they should bring G'Kar fully into the war council. "I don't think he knows anything that could possibly help you or your people."

"Bah! I seriously doubt it as well. This has nothing to do with helping my people. I am ashamed to say that this is a totally selfish act of curiosity on my part." He held up the data crystal. "Humans do not participate in the Blood Blade ritual in this universe. What kind of universe is this that they do? I am simply … curious."

Sheridan sighed. "I'll tell you what. Right now he is a bit overwhelmed by everything. I'll talk to him and if he agrees then you can meet him."

"Good enough." He offered Sheridan the data crystal. "You might wish to erase this. Don't want others to look at it and guess. And don't worry. I have no intention of telling anyone. Good day!"

The Narn stomped off and Sheridan glared at his grinning chief of security. "I need to get to my meeting. I'll swing by later." He stalked off, wondering who he'd pissed off so badly to deserve all this.

Michael watched him leave, still grinning, mainly at a wayward thought that had just occurred to him.

#

Michael stepped into the room then paused, looking around. Torque was sitting in a nearby chair, an open book in her hands. She grinned guiltily and nodded toward the sitting room. Stepping to one side, he could see Mick sitting on the floor, his legs crossed and hands resting on his knees. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and steady.

Michael raised an eyebrow at Torque and she shrugged. He nodded at the door. "Take a break. Come back in an hour." He said quietly and she nodded, setting the book down and slipping out the door.

Walking over to the table, he set down the two bags he carried then pulled the wrapped parcel out from under his arm and set it down as well. As he opened the bag with food, he saw Mick twitch slightly then his eyes opened and he turned his head to look at him.

"Fettuccine al burro?" He asked.

"Yep. From Fresh Aire."

"That'll do." Mick climbed to his feet, stretching.

"Does that help? The meditation." He clarified when Mick looked at him in confusion.

Mick smiled, pulling out a chair and taking the entrée dish Michael offered him. "Doesn't hurt." he paused, unwrapping the silverware. "And it does help. In a way."

Michael studied him for a moment, knowing that it was something he wouldn't do. But then, Mick wasn't him. "Here." He pushed the other bag over to him. "The Captain thought we could give this back to you."

Mick looked at him intently before taking the bag and looking inside, smiling at the sight of his shirt and knife. "Thanks." He reached in to pull out the knife, the look on his face enough to make Michael happy for his insistence on returning the obviously much-loved blade.

"Just don't wear either of them. You won't need them." Popping the top off his entrée, Michael kept an eye on Mick. There was indecision on the other man's face then he sighed. Reaching over, he pulled a t-shirt from the pile nearby and tenderly wrapped the knife before returning it to the bag.

"What's that?" He asked, nodding at the wrapped package.

"Well, a little project I was hoping you could help me with." Michael removed the book from its wrapping and set it on the table.

"The Book of G'Quan." Mick pulled it over, opening it up reverently.

"You know it?"

"I've read it. You forget I was raised on Narn. But this book is different." He paged through the book. "I guess that isn't surprising. Ahhhh, why ..."

"G'Kar seemed to think there's something in there that can help us and I was thinking that ..."

"I could translate it for you. It's sacrilegious to translate the Book into another language."

"Yeah, well. Right now I'm using a translator. What difference would it make if I used that or if you do it and you're just messing with me, aren't you?" The last bit was in response to the amused glint in Mick's eyes.

"In part. I won't write out a translation of the book." Mick's voice was firm.

Michael wavered then sighed. "Okay. Could you read through it and make notes? Make it a little easier for me to find things at least?"

"Sure. Be kind of cool to see what differences there are between the two books. What would I be looking for?"

"G'Kar didn't say what to look for but I think it has something to do with the Shadows."

"Su ... Commander Ivanova said something about Shadows. What's with that?"

Michael hesitated then proceeded to explain what they knew about the ancient enemy. When he finished, Mick was leaning back in his chair, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "So you've got these Shadows and Vorlons playing god games, the Earth Alliance is pissed off at you, and the Centauri are invading anything that moves. Considering the confusion here, this is an excellent time for smugglers to make a hell of a lot of money. And a hell of nasty time for me to be here."

"You already knew that."

"Yeah, well. I've been hanging around Susan too long. I feel the need to list all points of stupidity for future reference."

That made Michael chuckle. Mick moved his dish to one side, setting the book open in front of him. Opening it to where Michael had left the bookmark, he began to summarize each page, making occasional comments about differences, eating when he thought of it. Michael ate in his usual wolfish fashion, half-listening to him, his mind wandering. He found himself feeling tired, almost lethargic. He was dimly aware of Mick's hand on his shoulder, the other man saying something to him sharply then everything went black.

* * *

**Response to Reviewers:**  
**J**_**C** _- While your idea has some merit, Circles is already planned out and that idea would not fit here. I suggest you write it yourself. But thank you for interest in Circles.  
** CroatoanRoanoak** - Hope you are still enjoying the story. Mick's universe is much different and yet much alike the B5 canon universe. Where the major split occurred will be talked about in this story somewhere in the future and while some things about Mick's universe will be revealed, even more will come out in future Circles stories. I find the idea of two Garibaldis one with tattoos, fascinating and it's fun to write them with the little similarities and differences coming though.


	10. Comments

I'm taking a page from the infamous AlbertG and posting a Comments page because there are some things I wish to clarify. First off, this story now has an official name. This is **Circles in Light**. Story two (which covers season 4 and part of 5) will be **Circles in Dark** and story three (an epilogue several years in the future) is **Circles in Gray**. At least that's the plan and we all know how well plans actually work. I should also mention that I have attempt to use Beta Readers (and I do know that I should) but out of all the people who have volunteered to read, critique, and correct my stories, I have only really heard back from one or two of them. I'd much rather have beta readers but I can't wait forever for them to respond.

I am still working on this story as well as Homecoming but have had some trouble with both of them, which I'll get into in a moment. First off, an explanation of this story.

Circles was originally started in 1994. For some reason, I stopped after four segments; I don't remember why. I stumbled on the story again very early in 2008 and my interest in B5 peaked once again. I decided to finish the story. One problem ... I had no idea where I had meant to go with it.

So I reread it, thought it over then discarded the fourth segment, which had Michael ending up in Mick's universe. (Which would have been interesting but I had no idea where to go from there. If anyone is interested in the original version, let me know and I will post it but be warned that it will be an unfinished work.)

The story originally occurred in the second season but I decided to move it into the third season. While rereading the ten posted parts, I realized that, while the story was taking place directly after the arrest of Nightwatch, there was no mention of that event and other events happening at the same time. Ooops!! So I will be doing some rewriting to correct that. I also need to eventually explain why Talia wasn't taken over by Control. That may not appear until the second story but it will be explained.

I have been dithering with this story for a couple months, unable to go forward and make it work. I finally took a good hard look at it and decided that a scene (that I really liked) had to go. Once it was pulled, the rest of the story more or less fell into place. Which means I'm back on schedule (kind of). A moment of silence, please, for the discarded scene.

Thank you.

Circles is a fun story and I truly hope everyone is enjoying it. Mick and Michael are so much alike and yet occasionally startling different. I'm having fun writing it and hope to post a new segment by the end of the month but I'm also working at redecorating and decluttering my abode so don't hold your breath.

A couple clarifications. The morley dotes mentioned earlier is a nod to the Garrett PI series written by Glen Cook. Jamie Dawson and Dawson's Christian is from a song called Dawson's Christian.

Rayhne


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